


Homecoming

by chubbystoutpenguin



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bert survives RtS, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Marley Arc (Shingeki no Kyojin), Minor Original Character(s), Pining, Slow Burn, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26056891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbystoutpenguin/pseuds/chubbystoutpenguin
Summary: Two years after the Battle of Shiganshina, Bertholdt unexpectedly returned home. His relationship with Reiner was put to the test as they struggled to reconcile their ideologies and feelings towards each other.Canon-divergent AU, mainly exploring the idea of post-timeskip Bertholdt in Marley.
Relationships: Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 156
Kudos: 265





	1. Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Major canon divergence and vague explanations for it. There will be no major plot, this is mainly an exploration of Edgetolt x Reiner in Marley. Rating may go up with future chapters. This is also a Warrior-centric fic.  
>   
>  ~~Also because I'm staunchly in denial of Bertholdt's death, and don't really follow canon anymore.~~

When Reiner heard the deep, crackling bellow of the thunder, he knew it was no ordinary storm. He recognized the tremor that rippled through the ground, the golden spark that spread through the sky and shot through his window, onto his humble bunk. He remembered it all like it was a long-lost piece of his own body, returning to him within a fraction of a second, striking him with longing.

In an instant, he shot up, tossing the covers to the ground and bolting towards the light. Porco Galliard mumbled angrily in the other bunk, but for once Reiner couldn’t be bothered. He clambered on top of the desk that blocked access to the window, unbuckled the lock, and pushed the panels open. A hot rush of air hit him in the face, and Reiner almost lost his balance and fell out onto the streets below. He grabbed the sides of the wall, just in time.

“What the hell, Reiner?” Porco was wide awake now, sitting up and squinting his eyes. Another hot gust of air shot through the room, and Porco threw back his covers, aggravated. “And why is it so hot? It’s September, for god’s sake.”

“It’s him,” was all Reiner could say. His eyes were fixated at the golden streaks in the sky, peeking out from just beyond the silhouette of the buildings ahead. They had begun to fade back into the dark tapestry of the night, but Reiner already found what he was looking for. His eyes had caught the smoky pillar billowing from where the streaks had begun. It was steam.

A soft tremor shook the barracks once more. It was subtle — very subtle — and Reiner might’ve missed it if his senses hadn’t already been heightened and hyper-alert with anticipation.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Porco grumbled, now standing behind the desk. “Have you lost your mind? It’s just a damn storm—“ Porco’s words died in his throat as another tremor shook through the room. It was stronger this time, and even he couldn’t deny that this was no ordinary phenomenon. Unordinary, but not unfamiliar.

Reiner pointed at the growing cloud of steam, tiny and far in the horizon, yet steadily rising into the sky. “Look at that, Galliard.”

Porco looked. His face grew grim, and his posture straightened rigidly. He was slowly gearing into battle mode. “It’s a Titan,” Porco said, in a hushed whisper.

Reiner nodded. His hands were shaking. “It’s Bertholdt.”

Porco’s jaw went slack, staring dumbly. But before Reiner could let his roommate respond, he leapt down from the desk, grabbed his coat and ran out into the hallway. He could hear Porco yelling after him.

No doubt this would result in another mental evaluation where officials discussed, coldly, right in front of Reiner, whether he should be fed to Gabi and have his tenure as the Armored Titan prematurely ended. But Reiner couldn’t care — not for now. As he sprinted out of the barracks, he couldn’t even help but let out a strained laugh. _Home_ , was all he could think of. He’s technically home, he supposed, and yet this felt like the true homecoming — the part where that gaping, aching cavity in his chest would finally close in on itself. The ground shook again, rumbling beneath his soles, and Reiner choked back a cry. _I’m coming, Bertholdt. I’m coming._

His feet took him to the harbor, where he could finally see the horizon of the sea without any buildings blocking his sight. The air was unbearably hot now, and Reiner struggled to catch his breath. The steam in the distance was clear as day. Marleyans had started to filter out of their homes and peek out of their windows, the heavy chatter of panic escalating. Soldiers on duty shouted at each other, frantically determining the course of action. One of them noticed Reiner, and grabbed at him.

“Vice Captain Braun,” he gasped. “Thank goodness. We need to alert the rest of the Warrior unit, we believe an unknown Titan is approaching—“

Reiner shook his arm free, and continued to run along the harbor, ignoring the soldier’s pleas. He could see the disturbance in the waters ahead, and even in the dark of the night, Reiner could make out a silhouette, steadily wading towards the uninhabited cape at the end of the coastline. There was no doubt in his mind now: only the Colossal would’ve been able to walk through these waters and still poke out like a sore thumb.

Reiner was too far away. He wouldn’t be able to reach the cape before the Titan did at this rate. Without thinking, he bit his own hand and transformed, letting out a roar as he sprinted past terrified civilians and soldiers, his path converging with the Colossal’s. He ran until his armored soles left the concrete harbor and were landing on sand, then dirt, then the dry crackle of grass.

He came to an abrupt stop as he towered on top of the hilly landscape of the cape. The Titan was sluggishly approaching — slow, yet steady — and Reiner almost let out another cry when he finally made out the details of the Titan’s face: The long, crooked nose; the gentle pools of black eyes that hid behind the angry, deep-set brow. Reiner recognized these features. They were scorched to the back of his mind, always rising up in the dead of the night in his nightmares.

Reiner roared — one of welcome — as the Colossal began its ascent onto shallower waters. The ground continued to shake with every step that the Colossal took, and Reiner had to dig his toes into the dirt to keep his stance. Within three earth-shaking tremors, the Colossal emerged out of the water, back bent like a sea creature, and Reiner realized that it was slowly falling to its knees. The water rippled in the turbulence, flooding the nearby coast and raining a torrent on Reiner.

But he stood his ground. He stood his ground until the Colossal’s head rolled forward, eyes locking with the Armored Titan, and gaped its mouth open. The teeth closed around the rocks that surrounded the cape, biting down tightly, anchoring itself, and then just like that — The Colossal was finally still. Steam began to diffuse from the flesh.

A familiar growl came from behind Reiner, and out of pure instinct, he turned around and punched the Jaw Titan square in its face, propelling it into the Cart Titan looming just behind. His fellow Warriors must have feared for Reiner’s perceived mental breakdown, and given chase. They leaped back into battle stances almost immediately, but Reiner held up his hand in a desperate yet firm command. _Wait._

Thankfully, Porco and Pieck did.

Inside his own Titan, Reiner was trembling. But he gathered himself and began climbing over the Colossal Titan’s head, onto his nape. He knew he wasn’t wrong about this — he knew Bertholdt’s Titan like the back of his hand — but he still felt fear. He feared that when he opened this nape, he would find someone else carved inside it.

There was only one way to find out. Reiner carefully traced the Colossal’s nape, mentally noting the borders and depth of the flesh that he deemed safe to peel away. With as much care as he could muster, Reiner gnawed on the nape and stripped away the first layer of flesh, then another, then another. At his fourth attempt, he began to see a protruding silhouette. With bated breath, Reiner extended a finger and dug under what would be the shifter’s torso, slowly extracting the body out. He removed the strings of flesh still grabbing at the shifter’s body, and carefully turned them over onto his Titan’s palm. When he saw the face, Reiner began to weep, the sounds translating into a shaky, rumbling sound from his Titan form.

The dark hair had grown much longer, but Bertholdt’s face, peaceful in his state of unconsciousness, was unmistakable.

From the coast, the Jaw Titan and the Cart Titan watched on as the Armored Titan cradled their comrade, once thought to be lost forever to the devils of Paradis.

  


* * *

  


Reiner was hunched over, his forehead pressed flush against his clasped hand. The exhaustion was really starting to set in. He could feel the warmth of sunlight filtering in through the window at the end of the hallway — dawn must have broke. That meant he had been waiting in the hospital for a couple of hours now.

Something kicked at his shoe. Reiner looked up, and saw Porco holding two steaming tin mugs. He offered one to Reiner.

“You look like shit,” Porco said. Reiner sighed and took the mug, sipping at the bitter coffee gratefully. He supposed he did look like shit. He was still clad in the military-issued tunic bedwear; only his coat gave him some semblance of modesty. Porco, on the other hand, had taken the time to change into a more respectable outfit. He sat down next to Reiner on the bench. “He still hasn’t woken up?”

Reiner shook his head. They were facing a large glass panel, through which they could see the room where Bertholdt was being held. His arms and legs were restrained to the hospital bed with leather straps, and a tight gag had been inserted into his mouth.

“I don’t know why they have to restrain him like this,” Reiner hissed. “If he had wanted to hurt us, he could’ve headed straight towards the harbor and attacked. But he went for the cape, because he knew it was uninhabited.”

To Reiner’s surprise, Porco conceded. “He’s a hero to Marley,” Porco muttered. “And this isn’t exactly a hero’s welcome.”

Reiner ran his hands through his face. “I’m sorry, by the way.”

Porco sipped at his coffee. “You’re sorry for a lot of things. Be more specific.”

“About earlier. When I punched you.”

Porco shrugged. “I barely felt it. Hand-to-hand combat was never your strong suit.”

Reiner didn’t even balk at that. He was used to Porco’s insults. It was becoming comfortable at this point, like he could trust that the earth was still under his feet if Porco Galliard hated him. At this moment, though, something akin to a truce was forming between them, fueled by their mutual excitement and curiosity at having a fallen Warrior back home.

“Magath and Zeke are on their way,” Porco said. “I told Pieck to get some more rest. She was barely recovering from last week’s mission and she already had to chase you around.” He paused. “Reiner, this shouldn’t be possible. The officers are going to want answers.”

Reiner didn’t have to be told that. They had been defeated together by the Survey Corps just two years ago — him, the Beast Titan, and the Colossal. And now, Bertholdt made his way back by himself. “I know.”

“Zeke said it wasn’t possible to save him,” Porco hissed. “And of course you weren’t the least bit helpful, with your memory loss and all. Have they just been keeping him prisoner?”

Reiner thought about it. Annie had the crystallization quirk, enabling her to stay untouchable. Bertholdt, however, would not have the same advantage. “They must have,” Reiner replied. “The slightest injury would allow him to transform, so they would have to restrain him at all times.”

Thinking about it was fueling a pit of anger in Reiner’s chest. He tried to shake the thoughts off as he stood up and pressed against the glass panel, focusing instead on Bertholdt’s face. Reiner didn’t know how he had recognized the man just a few hours ago, in the darkness. Now that Bertholdt was illuminated by light, Reiner could see the exhaustion in his face, the fading Titan marks and the patchy beard that covered half his face. His dark hair was long and tangled, reaching past his shoulders. This was not the same boy he had spent his days camping and training with.

Porco joined him. “Then what about Annie?” he asked, surprisingly quiet. “Where is she?”

Reiner shook his head. There were far too many questions, and he didn’t have the capacity to try and answer them all. All he wanted was for the man behind the glass panel to open his eyes, to look at him, and to—

Bertholdt’s face was suddenly facing them, eyes wide open.

Porco leapt back in surprise, but Reiner could only stand still, transfixed. Bertholdt’s eyes didn’t look like they were registering anything. He slowly blinked and craned his head around, limbs pulling against the restraints — first gently, testing the bounds, then harshly as he found resistance. His chest began to heave heavily, the panic in his green eyes settling in. A muffled cry escaped his lips.

Reiner couldn’t take it any longer. He shoved his mug into Porco’s hands, splashing his shirt, and rushed into the room while Porco cursed. He immediately came to Bertholdt’s side, grabbing at his face and steadying him. Bertholdt’s eyes locked with Reiner’s — green meeting gold — and for a moment they were back in the training corps’ bunks, on one of the days that blurred together, just looking at each other to find anchor. Before long, Bertholdt’s limbs slowed their struggle, and his breath started to even out. His mouth moved around the gag, producing an unintelligible sound.

“It’s okay, Bertl,” Reiner whispered. He thought he’d never utter that nickname anymore, only spoken in hushed whispers when no one was listening. “You’re home.”

Bertholdt’s eyelids fluttered shut. His breaths had come to a slow, deep rhythm. Reiner was looming over him, shielding him from prying eyes that could’ve intruded on their reunion. In this illusion of privacy, Reiner quietly tucked a strand of hair behind Bertholdt’s ear.

He was only able to enjoy a few more minutes of calm before he heard his commander’s voice. “Reiner. Step back, please.”

Reiner sighed, and begrudgingly obeyed. Zeke and Magath did not look impressed. Porco milled around behind them, dabbing at a coffee stain forming on his shirt.

“I told you to leave him be until we get here,” Zeke chimed in. He looked aggravated, despite his usual aloof temperament.

“He just woke up,” Reiner said. “He was disoriented. I was calming him down.”

Bertholdt blinked, looking away towards the wall. Magath patted Reiner’s shoulder. “Thank you for securing him, but we need to interview him now.” He nodded towards the door. “Galliard, take Reiner back to the barracks. Get some rest.”

Porco grabbed at Reiner’s arm, but he shook him off. “Commander, let me stay.”

Magath huffed. “I’m not going to repeat this one more time. Let Zeke and I handle this. You’re…“ Magath paused, before settling on his choice of words. “Too close.”

It was non-negotiable. Reiner couldn’t even deny it — the Battle of Shiganshina still haunted him daily — and he couldn’t possibly defy a Marleyan superior.

Desperately, Reiner threw one last look at Bertholdt, but was disappointed to see that he was still facing away towards the wall. Porco tugged on his arm once more. “Come on, Reiner.”

He begrudgingly followed Porco out of the room, and Zeke closed the door behind them. They even lowered the blinds over the glass panel, shuttering them close. Reiner was completely shut out. He turned to Porco tiredly. “I’ll wait out here.”

Porco snorted. “Suit yourself.” He cast a wary glance at Reiner. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Reiner sat down on the bench, massaging his temples. “I don’t need this right now, Galliard.”

“The sooner you accept it, the better it will be. Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Reiner looked at Porco, who continued: “You failed him in Shiganshina.” His lips pursed grimly. “He’s not going to be the same Bertholdt you knew.”

Reiner pinched the bridge of his nose, nodding.

“I need you to admit it, Reiner. Believe me, I’m not doing this for you.” Porco was squatting on the floor now, forcing Reiner to look at him. “If you go into another spiral, they’re going to make Gabi take your Titan. We both know she’s not ready yet. Would you do that to her?”

Reiner forced himself to look Porco in the eyes. He might’ve been Vice Captain of the Warrior unit now, but Porco often still commanded authority over him. “I understand.”

“Good,” Porco said, standing up and walking away. “I’ll come back during lunch time. You owe me a new shirt.”

Reiner laid back on the bench, squeezed his eyes shut, and promptly fell into a restless sleep.


	2. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calvi and Magath held an emergency meeting after Bertholdt's sudden return. They decided to task Reiner and Porco with a new mission.

“Wake up, Reiner.”

Pieck’s gentle voice slowly roused Reiner from his sleep. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. The sunlight coming from the end of the hallway was disorienting, and he thought he was still in the barracks, devastatingly late for his morning class with the Warrior candidates. With a jolt, he leapt up and almost stumbled off the bench. Pieck grabbed at his sleeve just in time.

“You’re a jumpy one today, huh?” Pieck said, her hooded eyes crinkling as she smiled at Reiner. “Take a breather, then get ready. The commander wants us to head to headquarters for an emergency meeting in half an hour.”

Everything suddenly came back to Reiner. It was a Wednesday in September, and he was in a hospital hallway, in his bedwear and a coat. Waiting on Bertholdt.

“Bertl,” he said, the nickname coming loose in his state of grogginess. “Is he — Are they done with him?” He tried to reel in the desperation when he asked his next question: “Can I see him now?”

To his disappointment, Pieck shook her head. She pointed at the glass panel. “He’s asleep again. The commander and Zeke were just done with his interview. They said to keep him in the hospital for a little longer, monitor his condition.”

In other words: keep him under surveillance. Reiner quickly scanned the glass panel to make sure that Bertholdt was still there — that he hadn’t just poofed into thin air. To his relief, he found Bertholdt sleeping soundly in the hospital bed, chest rising up and down in his slumber. The gag had been removed, but the straps were still clasped tightly around his wrists and ankles.

Reiner also noticed that there were now two Marleyan soldiers stationed at the door. A nurse scuttled past, casting Reiner and Pieck a dirty look before shuffling away hurriedly. Reiner found it inexplicably relaxing. It was something familiar amongst a torrent of shocks that had occurred within a span of a few hours.

“I must’ve been really asleep,” Reiner said, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t believe I missed the commander.”

“He’ll understand,” Pieck said. “You were up all night securing the Colossal.”

Reiner cleared his throat. “Right. I owe you an apology for throwing Galliard into you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Pock is a lightweight.” The light-heartedness in her tone made Reiner smile. “Come on, get dressed. I grabbed these from your room.”

A bundle flopped onto Reiner’s lap, and he recognized it as his military outfit. “Thank you,” Reiner said. He was reluctant to leave Bertholdt, but he couldn’t be late. He dressed himself as quickly as possible in the bathroom, and tried to wash out the exhaustion from his face. He had to look presentable, as the Marleyan higher-ups would definitely be in this meeting. The return of the Colossal Titan was no trivial matter after all.

Porco, Zeke and Magath were already in the headquarters’ main meeting room when he and Pieck arrived. Porco gave Reiner’s appearance a once-over before nodding to himself, deeming it sufficient for the meeting.

Reiner felt like he was thrown back to the first few months after his defeat at Shiganshina. His fellow Warriors would take turns checking up on him and making sure he had his uniform and armband on correctly, and to please be ready at so-and-so o’clock for strategy discussions and Warrior candidate training, where he would spout what an honor it was to be the Shield of Marley and that “you-can-do-it-too!” until his face turned blue. Reiner actually wished that he had died right then and there, choked by his own words.

And yet, for the past 2 years, he continued to drag himself out of bed every morning (when the nightmares would wake him up anyways) and played the dutiful soldier until he managed to shed any remaining scrutiny from his peers. All it took was one night to undo all that progress, and he was again the subject of Porco’s condescending inspections.

This time, however, Reiner couldn’t care too much. There was something much more valuable than pride waiting for him back in the hospital.

The door to the room opened and several Marleyan officers began to filter in. The Warriors stood up in haste when they saw the last person in tow. It was General Calvi.

He sat down at the head of the table and tiredly gestured at everyone to follow suit.

“So,” Calvi began. “Warrior Hoover is back.”

“Yes,” Magath said.

“How did he survive? I distinctly recall Yeager—“ Zeke immediately straightened up. “— saying that the soldiers at Paradis had killed him.”

“It wasn’t definite,” Magath replied. “Yeager and Finger were high up on the walls. They saw one of the soldiers — the holder of the Coordinate, actually — slicing Hoover’s throat. They thought that was the end of it before they had to escape.” He leaned in closer to the table. “ButHoover actually revealed something interesting: The people in Paradis have figured out how to pass on the power of the Titans.”

A soft, collective gasp of murmurs passed through the room. One of the officers started furiously taking notes. Calvi’s brow scrunched. “What do you mean?”

“He woke up when they tried to feed him to a Titan.” Reiner’s blood ran cold. “The Paradis soldiers were in possession of a Titan serum vial. They gave it to one of their dying in an attempt to save his life.”

“But it didn’t work.”

Magath looked amused. “There’s a reason why we do transfers in highly-controlled rooms, with only the successor and the current possessor of the Titan locked in them.”

Reiner was struggling to keep his vision straight. The thought of the Survey Corps taking Bertholdt’s Titan never even crossed his mind. He had slowly made peace with his failures with the thought that Bertholdt died a quick, painless death as he was passed out. Reiner looked down into his lap, trying to keep the blood rushing to his head.

Through the ringing in his mind, he could hear Magath’s voice. “—They really only have the one vial, so they couldn’t try again.”

“Why didn’t they just kill him?”

“Hoover negotiated.” Magath sounded almost proud. “He told them that killing him wouldn’t be enough. His Titan would most likely be passed on to a newborn in this continent, given his blood relations, and then Marley would still have the Colossal Titan.”

“Quick thinking,” Calvi said. “I guess they don’t like those odds.”

“Even if it was passed on to a baby in Paradis, Hoover convinced them that they wouldn’t want to subject an innocent infant to the curse. Not to mention the hassle of checking every single baby on the island.”

Calvi hummed. “I have to say that I’m surprised. I never thought he would be quick on his tongue.”

“Fear of death brings forth many talents, I suppose,” Magath said. “One of the soldiers in Paradis have been trying to recreate the Titan serum ever since. They kept him alive so they could take his Titan.”

 _It must have been Hange,_ Reiner thought, the name alien in his mind after all these years. He could feel his vision steadying, having overcome his initial shock. He just had to keep reminding himself that Bertholdt was alive and intact, in the hospital just two blocks away.

“Did Hoover tell them about Marley at all?”

“Only bits and pieces. They are aware of a country beyond the sea, but nothing past that,” Magath said. “It’s not like they can physically torture him; he’ll just shift. They’ve kept him isolated and restrained at all times — a mental stress, for sure, but we’ve trained our Warriors for that.”

Calvi closed his eyes, thinking. “How did he escape?”

Magath shifted in his seat. “We weren’t able to gather that from Hoover.”

The general’s eyes flew open, brow scrunched. Magath continued: “He said he’s lost his memories of the escape.”

“Convenient,” Calvi muttered.

“With all due respect, General, it’s not the first time we’ve heard of Titan Shifters losing their memory. Braun’s experienced it, and so did the rest of the Warriors.”

“Commander, I may not have worked directly with the Warrior unit, but I still know some things,” Calvi said, sternly. “Braun lost his memory because he lost his _head_ in the battle. The Warriors lost memories of who they ate to gain their power. What’s Hoover’s excuse?”

Magath was undeterred. “We don’t know.”

Calvi scoffed. “And what are we supposed to do with that? Where’s the Coordinate? The Female Titan?”

“We can’t discount the possibility that he’s lying,” Magath said, shocking Reiner. “He could’ve been sent here on Paradis’s behalf, as unlikely as it is.” A silence washed over the room, and Magath continued, nonchalantly. “Or that he’s telling the truth, and that his memories might come back in bits and pieces.”

“So should we just pass on his Titan?” Calvi looked bored. “You’ve been training new candidates. Isn’t there one with the same meek disposition as Hoover, and tested highly? What’s his name… Udo?”

Reiner wasn’t new to this. He wasn’t new to the coldness and practicality with which the Marleyan officers would discuss imprisoning, killing, _feeding_ them to their friends and family. He could withstand it when it was about himself. But now, he felt his hand shoot up involuntarily, and the room was suddenly turning towards him. Reiner clenched his muscles, keeping his hand from trembling.

“If I may speak, General,” he said, carefully.

Calvi gestured. “You can proceed, Braun.”

“Thank you,” Reiner said. “If Bert— Hoover has been acting on Paradis’s behalf, then…” He paused, for effect. “Why hasn’t he killed us yet?”

The officers looked at each other. Magath was staring at him intently.

“He could’ve come to the harbor and attacked,” Reiner continued, his voice finding strength. “But he didn’t. He chose to come peacefully to the uninhabited cape.” He nodded towards Zeke and Magath. “I saw that he’s also complied without the gag on. He could’ve bit his tongue and transformed, right then and there.”

“That’s because Zeke had a gun to his head when we took the gag out,” Magath said, dryly, and Reiner felt a lump forming in his throat. The veins in his other hand, clenched tightly under the table, were beginning to pop out. “But you’re right, Braun, he hasn’t tried anything else, and we were able to leave the gag off. His compliance hasn’t escaped our attention. Regardless…” The commander turned back towards Calvi. “We can’t discount the possibility of a future attack.”

Calvi considered it. “Hoover has always been weak-willed, and two years is a long time. It’s not completely far-fetched to think that Paradis has converted him in that time frame.”

“He’s not weak,” Reiner said. Some of the Marleyan officers cast a scandalized look at his brazenness; Porco inhaled sharply to his right. Luckily, Calvi and Magath each held a cooler head than most, and didn’t bat an eye. “At least let him prove himself. I’ll keep watch over him. It won’t be difficult, since we’re all staying at the barracks anyway.” He added, hurriedly: “It’s premature to make Udo take the Colossal, especially during an active war. Hoover is experienced, and his Colossal would be a menace.”

Calvi and Magath stared at him. He could see the gears turning in their heads. Finally, Calvi spoke, almost too casually: “What is the nature of your relationship with Hoover, Braun?”

Something akin to a hiss escaped Porco’s lips. It was a question meant to throw Reiner off his feet, he knew. But he stood upright and met the general in his eyes. “We were peers in the Warrior program and childhood friends,” he answered, coolly. It was true — there had been nothing more and nothing less confessed between them. “And we were on the Paradis mission together. He would trust me enough to disclose any important information, especially that of the Coordinate or the Female Titan.”

“Even after Shiganshina?” Magath sighed. “I think it’d be interesting to see what information we can get out of him, but I think we need someone else on the watch.” He nodded towards Porco. “Galliard, you were on good terms with Hoover, no?”

Porco nodded, slowly. “Yes, Commander.”

Magath turned to Calvi, silently asking for his consent, and Calvi gestured dismissively. “Fine,” the general said. “Besides, Braun brought up a good point. Having Hoover back means the tides are turning towards us in this war. I won’t be surprised if the Mid-East Allied Forces begged for a truce once news hit them. They’d prefer compliance than complete annihilation.” He clasped his hands together, and cast a chilling stare at Reiner and Porco. “You can take Hoover out of the hospital, but watch him day and night. Don’t lose sight of him.”

Reiner and Porco answered, almost simultaneously: “Of course, General.”

“In the meantime, let’s send out another survey ship. If Hoover had truly escaped the enemy, then he must’ve also annihilated whatever’s been causing our ships to go missing.”

The general scanned the room, seeking objections. None came, and he stood up. “Alright, then,” Calvi said. “Dismissed.”

The Warriors stood up, arms clasped behind their backs as the Marleyan officers filed out, including Magath. Once the room was their own, Porco turned towards Reiner angrily. “You’ve got some nerve speaking out of turn like that to the general, Reiner.”

Reiner glared back. “And you would rather have them feed Bertholdt to Udo? After he just returned home?”

“You should’ve left it up to the commander,” Porco said, though he sounded unsure. He flopped back down onto his chair.

“Boys,” Zeke said, authoritatively. “Enough bickering. Reiner, I commend you for defending your fellow Warrior, but I’d highly suggest you _ask_ each time you want to speak to your superior.”

Reiner looked at Zeke tiredly. If there was anyone he never had trouble looking in the eyes after Shiganshina, it would be Zeke. It was ironic, Reiner knew. The Warrior captain had physically and verbally subdued Reiner in the past without mercy. But now, he shared something deeper with Reiner — a guilt and a failure to bring home their comrades from Paradis. He had been equally, if not more, responsible for leaving Bertholdt and Annie behind.

Regardless, Reiner knew when to show his subordination. “I apologize, Zeke.”

Zeke sighed. “Now let’s discuss the new mission. We’d have to change the room arrangement in the barracks. One of you will have to room with Bertholdt, and keep an eye on him.”

“I’ll do it.” Reiner and Porco spoke, simultaneously. They again glared at each other.

“I was thinking Galliard could do it,” Zeke said, breaking the tie. “I’d rather have someone more objective for this.”

In other words, Zeke still distrusted Reiner. It was rich, considering — “Did you know they had a serum, Zeke?”

Zeke and Pieck shared a look, before Zeke answered: “No. We thought he was as good as dead.”

“You had a vantage point from the Walls,” Reiner pursued. “You said you saw them cut his head off, for god’s sake. How can you be wrong about that?”

“We saw a glimpse of it,” Pieck said, carefully. “We had to escape before we could make sure of it. The Ackerman was on our tail.”

“There was no way to save him,” Zeke assured.

“And yet here he is.” Reiner couldn’t hold back the acid in his tone. “Alive.”

Zeke’s lips twitched. “Luckily for you.”

“For all of us,” Reiner corrected. The accusation in Zeke’s tone was not subtle. “For Marley.”

Zeke bizarrely looked away, seemingly lost in thought. “Right.”

An awkward beat passed between all of them. It had become a rather familiar, fucked-up tradition among the Warrior unit, and they were all accustomed to uncomfortable silences.

Porco cleared his throat. “Reiner, we should go to the hospital.”

Reiner closed his eyes. Right _._ How could he have forgotten? “Let’s go.”

The walk to the hospital was completely silent, as Reiner turned over Zeke and Pieck’s words in his mind. He had been told, over and over, that Bertholdt was unequivocally and categorically dead. He himself had been assured that the Survey Corps had no way of knowing how to pass on a Titan. The Warriors had waited, month by month, for a baby that ran a temperature higher than normal and would burst into Titan form at the prick of a finger.

They had all been so wrong.

As they arrived at Bertholdt’s hospital room, the soldiers guarding it obediently made way. Reiner took a peek through the glass panel — Bertholdt was awake now. He was sitting up, but his tangled hair hid the rest of his expression. Reiner stopped Porco as he was about to enter the room. “Could you give me a moment alone with him, please?”

Porco opened his mouth to protest, but Reiner interrupted. “Please, Galliard. Just 5 minutes. You can watch me through the glass anyways.”

Porco squinted his eyes, and stepped back. “You caught me on a good day.” He folded his arms. “You remember what I told you earlier, right?”

“Yes, that I should adjust my expectations,” Reiner deadpanned. He paused, before asking: “Do you think he’ll be angry?”

Porco snorted. “If he were truly angry,” he said. “We’d all be dead, wouldn’t we?”

Reiner considered it. Death wouldn’t be the worst thing he feared from Bertholdt. He feared the coldness in his eyes, the withdrawal of his touch, the acid in his words.

Regardless, Reiner had to confront his fears now. With a shaking hand, he turned the knob to the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes here:  
> 1) I want to be more formal when Calvi is involved, hence the use of last names when he's around. I consider Magath to be pretty much part of the Warrior unit as he worked closely with them, so the Warriors are on a first-name basis when only Magath is around. Or, you know, maybe I just want an excuse to write 'Warrior Hoover' in my fic.
> 
> 2) Yes, I bent the Titan inheritance theory a little here. I know in canon that it will be inherited to a random newborn regardless of distance or blood relations, but I don't think it's too far-fetched to say that it's more likely to be inherited to someone closer in blood relations.
> 
> 3) I've seen multiple translations for Pieck's nickname for Porco. I think the one that best fits the western language would be "Pock", so I chose that one.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you think. This is mostly a setup chapter, I have a lot more in store for the future!


	3. Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt reunited with Reiner and the rest of the Warriors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up WAY longer than I thought it would be. I thought about splitting it up, but I think in the end everything here goes well with the chapter title. Besides, I've done 2 chapters of setup, so hopefully this is a good payoff for now.

Bertholdt turned to face the doorway as Reiner entered, and Reiner was again taken aback at how different this man looked. Bertholdt’s features had always been long and angular, but now they only accented the gaunt expression that peeked out from the scraggly growth of beard and hair.

“Reiner,” Bertholdt said.

That voice, however, was unmistakable. He remembered every inflection and shade of it — its warmth during the calm, its hoarseness during the height of battle. Reiner realized he hadn’t even said a word to his friend.

“Bertl,” he managed to croak.

Bertholdt’s hands moved — possibly to reach out to Reiner— but they jerked back, held in place by the restraints. Bertholdt blinked. “Do you think you can…?”

“Yeah,” Reiner said. His hands were badly shaking, he realized, as he unbuckled the straps from Bertholdt’s limbs.

“Thank you,” Bertholdt said, and there was finally nothing else to do but to confront the subject of his sleepless nights.

His legs turned weak as he drifted into Bertholdt’s familiar eyes. Sure enough, his knees buckled, and Reiner found himself unable to keep looking and instead keeled onto the tiled floor, head pressed against the cool surface. “I’m sorry, Bertl,” he choked out. He had prepared long apologies — even eulogies — as part of his assigned therapy when he returned to Marley. He knew the words by heart, but this was all he could muster at the moment. “I’m so sorry. I know I don’t have the right to be.” His eyes were hot with tears. The monster of a guilt that had suffocated him for the past 2 years was exploding out, clenched tight in his fists as he groveled. “I didn’t want to leave you. I swear I didn’t— I asked to come back and get you, but they said you were dead—“

“Reiner,” Bertholdt called out. The bed creaked. “Don’t do this. Please stand up.”

Reiner remained on the floor. “I should’ve come back, Bertl. I should have.”

“Look up, Reiner.” He felt a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him.

This time, he did look up. Bertholdt was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, his face placid. Before Reiner could say anything else, Bertholdt interrupted: “I don’t blame you.”

The tears were leaking out now, but Reiner straightened up to his knees to meet Bertholdt’s gaze. He shook his head. “I should’ve listened to you and Annie all those years ago. We should’ve turned back.”

Bertholdt looked down at Reiner, curiously. “And then what?”

“And then—“ Reiner felt himself stumbling. “Maybe we wouldn’t have to do all those things.”

“Because we’d be executed,” Bertholdt said. “We were children, Reiner.”

“Or Galliard could take my Armored,” Reiner whispered. “He would do a better job. He wouldn’t break down and reveal everything to Eren. Then maybe you wouldn’t have to go through… this.”

“Galliard?”

It took Reiner a moment to realize that Bertholdt hadn’t met or talked to Porco, since they were children. “Porco.”

“Ah.” Bertholdt looked down onto his hands. “Do you really think things would’ve been different?”

Reiner stopped. He wanted to believe so. He wanted to believe that if he had vanished, been removed from the equation, then everything that had happened would be annulled. But a deep, conscious part of his mind knew that he only wanted to annul his own suffering. That voice in his mind knew, that—

“Nothing would have changed,” Bertholdt said, flatly. “Marley would make someone else kick in the wall. People would still die. I doubt even Porco can deal with that kind of guilt.” He grabbed at Reiner’s shoulder, steadying him. “Please get up, Reiner. I want to talk to you as friends. Like before.”

Their eyes met each other — Reiner’s teary, Bertholdt’s solemn — and Reiner found the resolution to shove down the monster in his chest that had only reared its head out. It was a well-practiced move since his days in the 104th: two, three deep breaths, staring into Bertholdt’s green irises until he felt the storm tame down to a mere, dulled ache.

Doubt still lingered in Reiner’s mind; he had fantasized about Bertholdt forgiving him right then and there, of course, but he couldn’t believe it would be reality. Perhaps Bertholdt was holding back. Maybe he was pretending. Regardless, there were more words to be exchanged in the future. For now, he was content just looking into Bertholdt’s face, however alien it looked at the moment.

Bertholdt broke the silence. “You’ve grown a beard.”

Reiner blinked. He found himself chuckling at the sudden comment. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He pulled up a chair to the bed and sat down on it, so that he could more easily meet Bertholdt’s eyes. “You have a beard now too, Bertl.” He thought about running his hand through Bertholdt’s jaw, but thought the better of it. It had been different when he was consumed by the initial shock and disbelief of having Bertholdt back. Now, his senses had sobered, and he decided that there was no need to further Porco’s suspicions. A side of him also feared that Bertholdt would recoil at this random display of affection. It had been a long time after all, laced with so many terrible things.

Bertholdt simply rubbed at his own chin. “I can feel it.”

Reiner realized that Bertholdt probably hadn’t even seen himself at this point. He wasn’t sure if it would be a welcome sight.

“Have you heard about what’s happened?” Bertholdt asked.

Reiner nodded. He was finding it difficult to look into Bertholdt’s eyes again. “Yes,” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Who did they—?” He couldn’t even speak the words. But at Bertholdt’s look of confusion, he spat it out: “Who did they try to feed you to?”

“Armin.” Bertholdt almost looked bored. “It’s poetic, really. I did try to kill him. Well—” He looked up thoughtfully. “I guess I did kill him.”

Reiner was dazed, both at what Bertholdt said, and how he’s said it. There were a million questions running at once in his mind, tumbling and crashing into one another, and not one was a winner. “I didn’t—“

“You don’t remember, I know,” Bertholdt said.

“It doesn’t make it any easier,” Reiner said, still reeling. His hand hovered over Bertholdt’s for a fleeting second, before retracting. “I have nightmares. I’m always thinking of you.” He added, in the last minute: “And Annie. I failed you both.”

Bertholdt’s lips curled to a sad smile. “I failed Annie too. I’m here, and she isn’t.”

“She could still be alive, Bertl.”

“Reiner,” Bertholdt said, suddenly grave. “How do you think I got here?”

It was the question of the hour. The idea must have lurked in everyone’s minds, but no one had the courage to speak it.

At Reiner’s hesitance, Bertholdt continued: “I must’ve killed everyone in Paradis.”

“Bertl—“ What could Reiner say? His tongue betrayed him, turning into lead.

“There’s no other explanation.” Bertholdt’s eyes never left Reiner’s. “The Survey Corps would never release me. They had no trust in me. They’d rather try and take Marley by themselves than enlist my help. Which means—“ He tucked one hand under his chin, leaning on his knee. “I must have killed them all, including Annie.”

“You can’t be sure of that. Annie has her crystallization.”

Bertholdt looked at Reiner. “It won’t be enough.” He paused. “Your Titan is really the only one that can withstand mine, Reiner.”

Bertholdt delivered it all without a hitch in his voice. Reiner found himself unable to untie his tongue, except to say one thing he’s already used to saying— “I’m sorry.”

Bertholdt looked at him funnily. “ _I_ should be sorry.”

“I just—“ Reiner faltered. “We should have rescued you and Annie.”

“Zeke made that decision, not you.”

“I can’t keep excusing everything I’m complicit in as something outside my control,” Reiner said, fingers digging into the cloth on his thighs. “I can’t even remember most things that’s happened—“

Bertholdt looked at him curiously. “What _do_ you remember, Reiner? From Shiganshina?”

Reiner looked at Bertholdt. The answer to that was complicated. He could barely distinguish which pieces of memory were an artificial production of his guilt, and which were reality. Of course, there was also the matter of his two personas during his days at the 104th — something which he barely had time to process before they had to march off to Shiganshina.

But there were two things he knew were true. “I remembered us parting on the wall just before the battle,” Reiner said, shakily. “And I heard your voice when I was incapacitated. Telling me to fall down and protect myself.” He shook his head. “I don’t remember much aside from that, Bertl.”

“I see,” Bertholdt said. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it.

The door opened and Porco came in, looking hesitant. Bertholdt’s eyes shot up in surprise at him. “Porco?”

“It’s Gal—“ Porco started, but faltered, coughing. “It doesn't matter. Welcome home, Bertholdt.”

“He goes by Galliard now,” Reiner helped, sensing Porco’s awkwardness.

“Oh. Right.” Bertholdt was suddenly smiling, looking Porco up and down. It was the first expression of joy coming from him, and Reiner felt a warmth spreading through his core. “I haven’t seen you in years! You didn’t change much at all.”

“You too—“ Porco again faltered miserably, and Reiner couldn’t help but snicker at witnessing a rare instance of Porco stumbling on his words, even if it was a bit sad. Clearly Bertholdt hadn’t been the same boy they knew six years ago. His growth spurt was explosive, and the burst of hair now hiding his angular face completely separated him from the wide-eyed boy with chubby, clean cheeks that he used to be.

Looking at the state of his friend, Reiner felt another twang tug on his chest. He held up a hand to Bertholdt. “Let’s catch up more later,” Reiner said. “The commander’s given permission to release you from the hospital. Are you hungry?”

“They gave me food while you were away,” Bertholdt said, self-consciously running one hand through his face again. “But a shower would be nice.”

Reiner nodded. “Let’s go to the barracks then.”

He stood up and wrapped one arm around Bertholdt, helping him up. Bertholdt’s figure was hidden under the loose raggy tunic that he was wearing, but now that Reiner was holding him, he was stunned at the feeling of bones protruding out of his fragile frame. Reiner may not remember much from his days in Paradis, but he remembered Bertholdt's lean, built figure well. He would always find muscle and flesh wherever he touched. The realization stung, and Reiner’s eyes felt hot again.

Bertholdt looked at him curiously, and Reiner realized that he’s literally been staring. Porco shifted uncomfortably. “Should we go?”

“Right,” Reiner said, quietly. He helped Bertholdt take the first step, then another, towards the door. It was a slow progress, but Bertholdt steadily accrued strength.

“What’s happened while I’m away?” Bertholdt asked, as they exited the hospital and walked slowly down the road. He looked around curiously. “Are we in the Marleyan part of the city? Bordering Liberio?”

“Yes,” Porco said, finally finding his voice. “We’re staying in the barracks while we prepare for the war. Reiner and I are supposed to be deployed in two weeks, actually.”

“War?”

“The Mid-East Allied Forces rebelled against Marley,” Porco replied. “Because they thought you were gone.”

“Oh,” Bertholdt said. “Have they not heard the news?”

Reiner chuckled. “You really only came back this morning, Bertholdt.”

“The general thinks they will retreat once they hear. But it’s not guaranteed.”

Bertholdt nodded, slowly. His voice suddenly found a new, lower tone that Reiner never recalled. “If they don’t, I can join you.”

Porco and Reiner looked at him, surprised. “Bertholdt, you’re not in any condition to fight.”

“In two weeks, I can be,” Bertholdt said. “Our metabolisms are faster. I can eat and train and get to a decent shape by then. Besides, all I need to do is shift.”

Reiner couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The old Bertholdt would never volunteer to kill. He would if ordered or asked to, sure, but he never had initiative to do so. Now, though, Bertholdt’s tone was pragmatic.

“Even so,” Reiner chimed in, squeezing Bertholdt. “You just came back from—“ A two-year nightmare? Imprisonment? Torture? “—a long mission. You’re not in the right mindset.”

Bertholdt simply shrugged. “If it would end the war sooner, I can do it. I can control the level of my explosion. We’ll only need to send a message.”

Reiner and Porco shared a glance, the hesitation unspoken but palpable between them. Porco shook his head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t have to get to that.”

When they reached the barracks, Reiner realized that they hadn’t worked out a room assignment for Bertholdt.

“I’ll go and talk to the supervisor,” Porco said. “You can use the bathroom at ours.”

Bertholdt looked almost giddy as Reiner walked him to the room that he shared with Porco. “You get your own bathrooms now? We didn’t used to as cadets.”

Reiner shook his head. “It’s shared between two rooms, so four people actually. You have to make sure to lock the door that leads to the other room. Believe me, I’ve learned the hard way.” He slowly let Bertholdt down to sit on his desk chair. “I’ll run the shower to make sure it’s hot.”

Bertholdt looked at Reiner. “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

“Oh, right. I have some of your clothes, actually…” He went to his dresser, opening the very bottom drawer and rummaging through it.

“You kept them?”

Reiner swallowed. “Yeah. Some of them.” He had in fact kept all of them, and slept with some, often hiding them under his pillowcase until he was sure Porco had gone to sleep. He slept with them until they grew musty and stale, indistinguishable from the rest of his dirty laundry. Eventually Reiner caved and washed most but one particular outfit: the one that Bertholdt wore the night before the Battle of Shiganshina — the one he swore still had the faintest of Bertholdt clinging onto it.

Now, that outfit was sitting in a knapsack in the corner of his closet. Reiner pushed the thought away as he picked out one of Bertholdt’s long-sleeved shirt and pants, stacking them neatly on his arm.

“They might not fit,” Bertholdt said. When Reiner turned around, Bertholdt was staring into the mirror at Porco’s side of the room. His eyes were fixated on his own reflection. Reiner couldn’t read those eyes.

“You’ll grow into them again,” he assured, touching Bertholdt’s shoulder. It felt particularly bony, yet warm to the touch. “Like you said. We have fast metabolisms.”

Bertholdt looked away, not saying anything. Reiner withdrew his hand, awkwardly. “I’ll bring these into the bathroom and prepare the shower.”

As he ran the water, waiting for it to turn warm, Reiner closed his eyes. Had this been what he had dreamt of? It was a relief — a huge relief — to have Bertholdt back, but he couldn’t help but still feel that thorn, stuck sideways in his chest. He needed to be there for Bertholdt, but he was struggling to even find consolation for himself.

 _Selfish,_ Reiner thought, as steam began to fill the bathroom. The water was ready.

While Bertholdt showered, Reiner began to take out all of Bertholdt’s belongings and clothes, stacking them carefully into a bag. He thought about taking out the knapsack from the closet, but decided to forget about it. They were old, musty clothes anyway, and a part of Reiner still wanted to hold onto them.

He looked around the room. Porco’s side would be empty soon, and Reiner realized he never had a space just to himself. When he was growing up in Liberio, he always shared a room with his mother. In Paradis, he was crammed in with Bertholdt and Annie and shuttled across refugee camps, then the training barracks. Even after they were outed as traitors, during the endless days when they camped on the walls, Reiner never had a tent to himself — he always shared with Bertholdt while Zeke or Ymir occupied the other. Reiner learned to appreciate the company, and to invent privacy. He and Bertholdt could be flush against each other and never feel uneasy. They had shared everything — food, water, clothing, thoughts, even other comforts. But Reiner didn't want to think of that. He needed to learn to be alone, and to start anew with Bertholdt.

He heard the water shut off, and Bertholdt soon emerged, dressed and clean. He had been right after all — the shirt that used to fit Bertholdt perfectly now hung loosely off his shoulders. It also seemed shorter, stopping just above Bertholdt’s hips. It seemed unbelievable that Bertholdt had managed to grow under all that duress, considering how much weight he had lost. It struck Reiner that they truly didn’t know the extent to which their Titan powers had affected their bodies.

Bertholdt looked at himself in the mirror. If he was bothered by the loose clothing, he didn't show it. Instead, he pointed to his face and looked at Reiner sheepishly. “Do you think you can help me with this?”

It took Reiner a minute to understand that Bertholdt wanted help with shaving. Bertholdt was a late bloomer when it came to facial hair, and never had to deal with even the slightest hint of stubble when they were back in the 104th. Meanwhile, Reiner had to deal with razor burns pretty quickly.

Reiner nodded. “Sit down here,” he said, pulling up the desk chair to the sink.

Bertholdt obeyed. Reiner threw a fresh towel around Bertholdt, took a pair of clippers and began nipping away at the growth around Bertholdt’s jaw, trimming it to a manageable stubble. He then started mixing the shaving soap with water, lathering it with quick motions of his hand. He scooped up the resulting foam and ran it under Bertholdt’s nose and across his chin, applying comfortable pressure. His skin felt hot and supple, even under the cold foam. Bertholdt’s eyes fluttered shut.

When they flew back open a few seconds later, Reiner realized that Bertholdt had tears in his eyes. One slid down his temple, wetting Reiner’s hand. His heart stopped.

Bertholdt blinked. “I’m sorry, Reiner.” He wiped away at his eyes, quickly. “It’s just that—“ He licked his lip, the words coming out with difficulty: “It’s just been a while since someone cared for me.”

Reiner’s first urge was to lean in and … do what, exactly? He quickly stopped his brain from filling in the rest of that urge. Instead, he froze in place, unable to grasp at any word that would be appropriate. He truly was a useless friend. Eventually, Reiner could only squeeze Bertholdt’s shoulder.

“I know,” he said, lamely.

Bertholdt shook his head. “Sorry. You can continue.”

“You don’t have to be.”

Bertholdt merely sighed, his head lulling into Reiner’s arm.

Reiner moved one hand to cradle the back of Bertholdt’s neck, gently nudging him to lean into it. He picked out a straight razor with his other hand and began gliding it carefully over Bertholdt’s jaw and cheeks. _Like painting_ , Reiner absently thought. With every stroke, he was reproducing the familiar face he knew by heart, undoing the years that had come in between them. If only it had been that easy when it came to their relationship.

But even now, some things still hadn’t changed, had it? Bertholdt still stood a few inches taller over Reiner. And he still trusted Reiner with all his heart. He remained perfectly relaxed as Reiner held the razor flush against his skin and swept, over and over again, over his throat, jaw, cheeks. One wrong move and he could’ve drawn blood, or even Bertholdt’s life. Yet after Reiner’s failures and transgressions, Bertholdt still gladly leaned into his touch and followed his lead.

A smile involuntarily tugged at his lips. He was caught off-guard as Bertholdt’s lips mirrored his. “What are you thinking of?”

“Nothing,” Reiner breathed. His eyes couldn't help but drift and catch Bertholdt’s, which were intently looking at Reiner. Or was it through him? Regardless, their faces were too close, and he couldn’t handle the heat that involuntarily flooded his core. Reiner quickly stepped back, before the flush in his cheeks became too noticeable. He was done anyways.

He wetted a rag and dabbed at Bertholdt’s face, cleaning off any leftover foam.“Take a look,” he said. Bertholdt lifted his head up, and they looked at their reflections in the bathroom mirror. Even two years later, Bertholdt’s face was still youthful, with his kind, doey eyes. Reiner’s features had only harshened over the past two years. “Do you feel more like yourself?”

Bertholdt smiled. “Yes. Thank you.” He tugged at his long hair. “Do you think you can give me a haircut too? Like you used to?”

Reiner chuckled. He was never that good at it, producing uneven fringes, yet Bertholdt never gave up on him. “Of course.”

Reiner never had to deal with this much hair before, though. Annie always opted for a bun and a rudimentary self-trim instead of enlisting any of their help. Reiner just had to go by instinct this time. He gathered Bertholdt’s long wet hair into a ponytail and clipped it off, leaving hair that hung just at Bertholdt’s nape. Now this was something more workable. Reiner worked off his memory from that point on, tilting Bertholdt’s head forward as he trimmed the hair on the back to form the tapered neckline Bertholdt always sported.

Now, onto the front. Reiner walked around to take a better look at Bertholdt’s face. The wet hair was covering most of his eyes, and Bertholdt had to close them to avoid the pinprick. Reiner was grateful for it; he didn’t want a repeat of his reaction earlier. The knot that was already starting to form in his abdomen was warning enough.

Reiner held two strands of hair from each side of Bertholdt’s face, comparing the lengths, before starting to trim and shape it. Gradually the curtain of hair fell away, unveiling Bertholdt’s features. Reiner took the razor to the sides of Bertholdt’s head, finishing his handiwork. When he moved away to reveal Bertholdt’s reflection on the mirror, it was as if time hadn’t passed at all.

“Thank you,” Bertholdt breathed.

Reiner squeezed his shoulder. “You’re welcome.” He stared at Bertholdt’s reflection. “Sorry, this is the best I can do. Galliard would probably think it’s terrible.” The door to the room opened, and slammed shut loudly. "Speaking of the devil.”

Porco joined them in the bathroom, raising his eyebrows. He looked taken aback by Bertholdt’s new appearance. “You got a haircut.” He gave it a once-over. “It’s not even, Reiner. The left side is thicker than the right.”

Reiner lifted his hands. “Have at it then.”

Porco grumbled as he picked up the razor and started trimming delicately. Bertholdt threw an apologetic glance at Reiner. “For what it's worth, I thought it was good.”

“You two are equally blind,” Porco said, pulling the strands of hair up and scrutinizing them in the mirror.

Bertholdt chuckled. “I never thought I’d miss your lack of filter, Galliard, but I guess here we are.”

“Yeah. Well,” Porco grumbled. “You’ll be getting a lot of that, I guess.”

A familiar shuffle approached them, intermingled with wood thumping against the floor. Pieck appeared at the doorway, crutch in tow. She sheepishly looked at the scene unfolding in front of her. “So this is where you guys are.”

Porco nodded. “Ah, yeah. Pieck wants to say hi.”

Pieck was uncharacteristically stiff. “Hey, Bertholdt.”

His head held in place, Bertholdt could only manage a glance. It was probably not the best time for a reunion between them. Pieck had always said what happened at Shiganshina couldn't be helped. Even if it was untrue, Reiner was inclined to blame Zeke, who always demanded absolute obedience from his subordinates. Maybe Pieck just had no choice. Of course, he didn’t get to choose how Bertholdt would react.

Pieck cleared her throat. “I’m glad to see you home. I just want to say—“

As if Bertholdt sensed what was coming next, he shook his head slightly, drawing a hiss from Porco, who almost carved a chunk out of his hair.

“It’s okay,” Bertholdt said. “I don’t blame you, and I don't want to talk about Shiganshina. Really.” Porco released Bertholdt’s head to let him look at Pieck in the eyes. “It will take time, but for now I just want to enjoy being home.”

Pieck shifted on her crutch, nodding. “Right.” Porco started working on Bertholdt’s hair again. “It’s good to see you again, anyways. You’re looking much better after the haircut.”

Bertholdt smiled. “I look the same as before, right?”

Reiner and Pieck both nodded. Porco was left out of this vote; instead, he busied himself perfecting what Reiner had started.

“Maybe you should mix it up a little,” Porco said, pushing back Bertholdt’s fringe. “Wear it up like this.”

“You mean like you,” Bertholdt said, amused.

Porco snorted. “Sure, I’m biased. But a new beginning calls for a new look, no?” He gathered a jar from the countertop and dipped three fingers into it, scooping out a translucent, fatty substance. He pulled Bertholdt’s fringe back and spread the substance through it, keeping the sweep in place. “There.”

Reiner had to admit it looked good. The style looked more relaxed on Bertholdt than on Porco, the hair still retaining volume even when held in place by the gel. A few strands tumbled onto his temple. It gave him a more mature and dignified look.

Bertholdt smiled. "Maybe I will. For special occasions.”

Porco snorted. "What special occasion can we Eldians get here? Hell, they’ll probably give us a nicer bottle of whiskey to celebrate you coming home and call it a day.”

“I’m guessing I’ll be called in for a lot of interrogations,” Bertholdt sighed. “That's special, right?”

“Live a little,” Porco merely said. He removed the towel from Bertholdt’s neck. “I got our room ready, by the way.”

Bertholdt blinked. “Our?”

“You're rooming with Galliard,” Reiner said. “I have your clothes and other things packed up. We can help you settle in.”

It took a moment for Bertholdt’s mind to click. “My other things,” he repeated, walking past Pieck and Reiner into the room, and checking the bag. He looked surprised. “This is everything I’ve packed to Paradis.”

Reiner was slightly embarrassed, but he felt that it wasn’t strange to hold onto a friend’s belongings, especially when he thought Bertholdt was dead. Even Pieck and Porco looked confused. “Yeah. It wouldn’t feel right to throw them away.”

“I know, but…” Bertholdt rustled through the bag and picked something up. He held it in his palm. "Why didn’t you give some of these to my father?”

The room stilled. Reiner couldn't believe they had all neglected to tell Bertholdt. The day kept morphing into something uglier at every turn. “Bertholdt—“

“He's dead, isn’t he?”

Bertholdt’s eyes were fixed on the item in his hand. Reiner now knew what it was. Bertholdt had raved about it when he first received it, and spent the first year of their mission clutching it in his hand while he slept.

It was a queen chess piece — the most powerful piece of the game — the one that could end the match in one sweep. Chess had been a favorite pastime between the father and son, with Reiner joining in occasionally. Bertholdt’s father, sickly as he was, had gotten out of bed and spent the whole day making it. He weighted it, engraved it with Bertholdt’s initials, hung it around a string and gave it to him the day after they inherited their Titans. _A reminder of your power,_ he had said. _Do your duty well, then come home._

“How long ago?” Bertholdt asked. His voice didn’t even quiver.

“A year,” Reiner said. He, on the other hand, sounded hoarse. "It was peaceful.”

“He’d been bedridden for a while,” Porco muttered.

“He said he's proud of you.”

Bertholdt closed his fingers around the chess piece, then dropped it into the bag. He looked at Reiner. "When can I visit home?”

It was chilling to see emptiness on Bertholdt's face. He had always been the more sensitive one amongst them, and the tear that Bertholdt shed earlier was indicative that some semblance of his old friend was still there. But now, his facade had hardened. Reiner briefly wondered which side of Bertholdt had accepted his and Pieck's apology so casually.

“I’ll ask the commander if I can accompany you tomorrow,” Reiner said. “I'm sure he'll excuse us as long as I find someone to replace me for certain duties.”

“I can take over,” Pieck offered.

Bertholdt nodded once everything was settled. “Thank you.” Unceremoniously, he buckled the bag and slung it over his shoulder, nodding towards Porco. "Show me the way?”

It took a minute for Porco to react, shuffling forward and leaving the room with Bertholdt. Pieck turned towards Reiner. "Is that normal?"

“No," was all Reiner could say. “No, I don't think so.”

Pieck put down her crutch and sat on Porco’s bed, sighing. "What an exhausting day.”

“Rest, Pieck,” Reiner said. "How are the candidates? Have they heard the news?”

“It's hard not to. Everyone saw the Colossal.” Pieck laid back onto the mattress. "Gabi's asking for you. Does she even know Bertholdt?”

Reiner thought about it. "She was a baby when we left, so I doubt it. I've only mentioned him in passing, when I was—” He waved his hand, vaguely. “Unwell.”

Pieck hummed. “Don’t let her see you like that again, Reiner. You’re her hero.”

He sighed. "I know.”

“And Bertholdt needs you now.”

“I know.”

Reiner suddenly felt like a rich man in this desolate world. He had a little cousin who adored him, a mother who never gave up on him, and a best friend who came back to life. That was already more than what most people in Liberio or Paradis had. He should be grateful. But, like Pieck, all he felt was exhaustion.

“I’ll see Magath right now to ask for permission," Reiner said.

It would be another long day tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Porco and Reiner can open a salon together? Anyways, some more serious notes:  
> 1) I'm sorry if any of the technical details regarding shaving/haircut/chess here are wrong. I've already watched way too many men's grooming videos for reference (both for writing this chapter + possibly illustrating the shaving scene, if I can struggle through drawing the posture). I also chose to use shaving soap because that's apparently what people use before shaving creams.  
> 2) I'd like to think that Reiner saved this [outfit](http://u.cubeupload.com/reonu/zVRVcn.png)  
> 3) We were absolutely robbed of Bertholdt's family backstory in canon (other than the fact that he has a sickly father who died while Bert is away), so hope you can bear with a little indulgent headcanon.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated. I understand the reunions are probably not thoroughly explored in this chapter, but hey, this is a slow burn fic. More to come! :)
> 
> EDIT: I think I never really clarified why Bertholdt never saw his father after leaving for Paradis. It was never explicitly mentioned in canon if they went back to Marley to return Ymir, but this fic is assuming they never left the island, and that Ymir was returned with the Marleyan soldiers/Zeke/Pieck by herself.


	4. Inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner and Bertholdt returned to Liberio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the very late update. The events in this chapter were originally planned to only be half of the chapter, but they kind of expanded a lot over the past few weeks so I decided to split the chapter into two. I hope the update is at least satisfactory.
> 
> tw// canon-compliant suicide ideation / some homophobia
> 
> I will be updating tags as we go, please do call me out if I missed anything that should be a warning.

It was a gloomy morning. Reiner could tell it would be one of those days when the autumn rain came and went in soft drizzles. He could already smell the wet soil in the air.

Pieck joined him in the patio, lighting up a cigarette. “When are you headed out?”

“In fifteen minutes.”

“Pock’s with him now?”

“Yeah.”

Pieck hummed. “You should talk to Gabi before you leave. She’s been wearing my ear out.”

“I know.” Reiner twitched to pull out his own pack of cigarettes, but held back. It was a bad habit he picked up during rehabilitation anyways, and he didn’t want to show his vices so quickly to Bertholdt. “Thank you again for taking over the training.”

“Of course.”

Reiner walked back indoors, into the hallway that was now deserted. Only a few Marleyan soldiers — late to their breakfasts — scuttled past, glancing nervously at Reiner before looking down and speeding up. Reiner kept his pace.

The mess hall was loud with chatter and trays banging against tables. It would normally be difficult to find someone among this sea of people, but luckily there was a solution to the madness. Reiner made his way to the section designated for them, in the corner of the hall, where Eldian soldiers were eating quietly. He couldn’t spot Porco nor Bertholdt; perhaps they had finished early. Besides, he wasn’t looking for them. He pivoted towards the rowdiest table in the section, where the candidates were sitting.

Colt looked exhausted. Reiner supposed he would be, too, if he were lumped together with a group of excitable children most of the time. It seemed that Gabi was embroiled in yet another patriotic speech while Zofia looked on boredly, huffing under her breath. It was definitely difficult to break Gabi’s spirit when she’s this fired up, and Gabi was always fired up when it came to Marley. She had inherited that disease from Reiner.

“Gabi,” he called out.

Gabi immediately turned around. Her eyes brightened. “Reiner!” She jumped up and propelled herself into him, grabbing at his uniform. “Where have you been? I was worried! I heard you faced off against the Colossal?”

“Faced off? I wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Reiner chuckled, ruffling her hair. “He wasn’t attacking. I only placed him into custody.”

Gabi scrunched her brow. “So you’re saying that he came back on his own?”

Colt perked up. “Bertholdt? It’s true?”

Gabi huffed. “I know his name! I know all the Warriors’ names.”

“I know you do,” Reiner said. He pulled Gabi at arm’s length. “What have you guys heard so far?”

“Not much at all. I mean, we all felt the rumbling when the Colossal came, and then… nothing. Some people still believe it was just an earthquake. Pieck said to wait for the briefing this afternoon — I’m guessing they’ll tell us then.” Gabi’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean those devils in Paradis have been wiped out?”

Reiner’s hands curled uncomfortably. “We don’t know yet. Colt, has Zeke spoken to you?”

Colt shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since yesterday. I’m assuming he’s busy because of this.”

The other candidates shifted excitedly in their seats. “This is good, right?” Falco said, slowly. “It might mean we don’t have to go to war?”

Udo’s eyes glinted with hope at that. Reiner gritted through his next words. “We’ll see. But the odds are in our favor.”

Gabi snorted. “Either way, I’m ready. You should see the bombs I made for practice, Reiner. It’d make you proud.”

No, it wouldn’t. Just hearing about it caused the monster inside Reiner’s chest to coil.

“But I’m happy your friend came back,” Gabi continued, beaming a smile at Reiner. “It’s like you said! He’s alive after all.” She stepped in closer to him, and there was something more tender reflected in her expression. “You do feel better now, right, Reiner?”

Reiner swallowed. He counted to three, then smiled. “Yes. Of course.” He nodded vaguely to the table. “As should the rest of us.”

Before Reiner could read Gabi’s expression, she had given Reiner another hug and buried her face into his uniform. “Good,” she breathed, barely audible. “I’m glad.”

Reiner returned the hug. As Gabi squeezed him, he imagined that innocence filtering into him, filling him. But when they eventually parted, Reiner knew that there was no amount of innocence able to undo the stain within himself. Or perhaps, _he_ was the stain, and he would only bleed onto Gabi, until that girl with the bright smile was reduced to nothing but a dark husk. The only way out, he thought sometimes, was to vanish. If he himself was the stain, wouldn’t that be the only solution?

“I’ll see you tomorrow for training,” Reiner said, patting Gabi on the back. “Promise. Today’s the last time I play hooky.”

“Okay,” Gabi said, quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Reiner.”

“See you.”

When Reiner finally made his way outside, he still had five minutes to spare, but Porco and Bertholdt were already waiting. They were speaking in hushed tones, and abruptly stopped as Reiner arrived. Porco raised an eyebrow at Reiner. “You’re good to go?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Alright then,” Porco patted Bertholdt on the arm. “Have a good day. I’m off.” He begrudgingly nodded at Reiner before sauntering away.

“Good morning,” Bertholdt said.

“Good morning.” It still felt surreal. Here they were, exchanging mundane greetings, despite everything. “How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly okay,” Bertholdt said. He shifted on his feet, and the oversized coat he was wearing slid off a shoulder. “I feel like a child being passed between babysitters.” He didn’t sound irritated, only amused.

Reiner could only smile in return, relieved at Bertholdt’s good mood. He wondered, briefly, if Bertholdt simply didn’t know how else to act — to be angry. “Sorry.”

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to have company.”

“Galliard’s been good to you?”

“Yeah,” Bertholdt said. “He got me an armband.”

“I can see,” Reiner said. Bertholdt was wearing his old clothes, but they all sagged around him, ill-fitted. Reiner tugged up at the coat that had fallen off one shoulder, tucking it closely around Bertholdt’s neck. It was getting a little nippy out. “We’ll get you a proper uniform soon.”

Bertholdt smiled. “I can’t get a free pass for a few weeks? I’m sort of enjoying being a slob.”

Reiner laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s right,” Bertholdt said. “You’re vice captain now, aren’t you?”

“Ah. Yeah.”

“I guess that makes you my superior now. Officially.”

Reiner looked away. “Please, don’t think much of it. It’s just a title.” He gestured towards the road. “Ready to go?”

“Sure,” Bertholdt said. “How far are we from the border?”

“Not far at all. It’s just outside the military compound — we can walk there.” God forbid they let Eldians stay too deep inside the mainland, right? But Reiner didn’t let that part leave his lips.

“Okay,” Bertholdt said. They started walking, side by side. Bertholdt inhaled. “I’m glad we can walk. The air smells so good today.”

“You should enjoy it while we’re outside Liberio. It won’t smell as good there.”

“So nothing has changed, huh?”

Reiner thought about it. He had been so consumed by the absences in his life that he hadn’t realized the world standing still around him. “No, not much, I suppose.”

“Did they at least—” Bertholdt’s next words were halted. “Did they at least deliver on their promise? To my dad?”

“Yeah.” Reiner’s hand flitted over Bertholdt’s back. “He was well taken care of.”

“Did anyone visit him?”

Reiner knew that Bertholdt meant to ask if Reiner visited. But he would never make a pointed expectation of Reiner, such was Bertholdt’s nature. “I visit whenever I went home, every week or so. My mother would sometimes drop by during the weekdays. I try to always make it, Bertl.” Reiner did try. But of course there were weekends he spent instead in bed, when not even family mattered, and Reiner thought of nothing but the void. “We’d play chess. He still beats me every time.”

Bertholdt smiled. “He’s still sharp, huh?”

Reiner thought of the last few weeks when Mr. Hoover could barely lift his head off the pillow. The times when he looked at Reiner as if he wished he were someone else, the times he actually thought Reiner was someone else. “Yes. Until the end.”

“And it was peaceful…?”

“Yes.” It was a quiet night compared to the one of Bertholdt’s return. The hushed urgent whispers telling him to wake up, the brisk walk back to Liberio. Altogether it had been the most peaceful death he had witnessed, but still ugly. Always ugly. “He said he was proud of you.”

“Did he say anything else?”

Reiner thought about it. “No. Nothing else.”

Bertholdt looked at Reiner — that almost empty gaze that seemed to pierce through. He wondered if Bertholdt could see through the white lies, to the ugliness that Reiner saw. He knew how frustrating it could be, to have this gnawing gap in your mind, and to rely on others to fill it in, bit by bit, story by story — painstakingly never enough. Reiner learned to embrace the gaps. He learned to embrace not knowing. He learned to just believe the polished secondhand stories. He only wanted Bertholdt to feel the same way.

But learning about everything that had been done to Bertholdt in the past day had been shattering, and Reiner was suddenly not sure if he had made the right decision.

Luckily, he didn’t have to ruminate on it for too long. The checkpoint was just ahead, and the gates were opening for them. A putrid smell wafted over, stinging Reiner’s nostrils. They had arrived at Liberio.

The tight lattice of cobblestones lining the road began to loosen and crack into ugly cavities. Murky puddles pooled within those gaps. A few children ran past them, staring with gawking mouths before sprinting off. There was something special about being a Warrior — somehow you were feared and respected, repulsed and despised by both Marleyans and Eldians.

“Nothing’s changed,” Bertholdt muttered, looking around. Reiner realized this was truly the first time that Bertholdt had stepped foot in their hometown, after all those empty promises in Paradis.

“Yeah,” Reiner said. He barely remembered his own first time home at Liberio. He was a ghost treading through the streets, sinking his feet into the puddles and only realizing after the fact, when he had completely ruined his shoes and dredged mud into his mother’s beautiful new house — the house that his crimes had earned. The same crimes that had cost him Bertholdt and everything else. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Bertholdt said. He was staring at a mural plastered over a speckled wall.

It was an old painting of a nuclear family — a father, a mother, a son and a daughter. What was once a fresh painting of a happy, proud family, was now an old and grimy relic. Paint peeled over their faces, leaving them with uneven features, and the once wide, dignified smiles were now half-grimaces. But the image never mattered; it was the message next to it that did. The huge block text always got repainted and re-accented twice a year. _DO YOUR PART! -_ it read. 2 _x RATION FOR EVERY CHILD BORN. 5x RATION AND FURTHER REWARDS FOR THOSE BORN CHOSEN._

It wasn’t a new program; Reiner and Bertholdt had spent their childhoods passing by many a mural like this. Eldians were hated, but there was always a need for more of them — to keep in line, to weaponize. The last sentence, however, was new. The “5” looked especially fresh; they must’ve increased the reward again recently.

“Born chosen,” Bertholdt said. “Does that mean…”

“Inherited your Titan,” Reiner said, shifting on his feet. “Or Annie’s. In case both of you passed.”

“Ah.” Bertholdt was still staring at the mural. “Sorry to disappoint, I guess.”

“It’s a silly incentive,” Reiner said. He felt embarrassed talking about this with Bertholdt, for some reason. “No one can control whether their baby inherits a Titan.”

“But it would motivate us to breed faster.”

Reiner looked down. “Yeah.”

“Like rolling a dice,” Bertholdt said. “Wouldn’t anyone here try anything for a chance at a fuller belly? Better clothes?”

“I suppose.”

“That’s why we became Warriors in the first place, right? Sign away our 13 years to the devil.”

Reiner grabbed at Bertholdt’s arm, gently, but with warning. “Don’t say it out loud, Bertl.”

Bertholdt threw Reiner a curious look. “What?” he asked, his tone almost amused. Or was it mocking? “Can’t the Vice Captain get me out of trouble?”

Reiner let go. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

A beat passed between them. “Right,” Bertholdt finally said, coolly. “I’ll watch my mouth.”

“Just when we’re in public,” Reiner said.

“I know.”

Reiner hurriedly searched for a new topic. “Let’s keep going,” he said. “I was thinking we should get flowers. What do you think?”

“Yeah,” Bertholdt said. He still seemed lost in thought. “Yeah, I like that idea.”

“We can get them from the Meyers,” Reiner said, glad they’ve put a pin in their previous conversation. “Do you remember?”

Bertholdt nodded. “Of course.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Mr. Meyer would always make wreaths for the girls. But Annie doesn’t care much for flowers, does she?”

“She would just toss them.”

“And we’d wear them instead, just to pretend to be one of those ancient gods and heroes.”

Reiner smiled. “Simpler times.”

“Yeah.”

They rounded the corner of the familiar street, expecting Tobias Meyer’s familiar stand. But now they could only spot a skinny child with knobby knees standing by the curb, a tray of wilted flowers hung around his neck. He looked in alarm at Reiner and Bertholdt, stepping back and almost stumbling down. Reiner quickly put up his hands.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re just here to buy flowers.”

The boy stared, eyes still wide with nerves. Reiner supposed they looked like terrible giants to the small child.

Reiner decided he needed a little more incentive. He pulled out the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and held it up. They were the good kind, the Marleyan kind. Currency didn’t exist here, and people made do with trades. High-quality cigarettes were the gold of Liberio. The boy’s eyes widened even more.

“I don’t have enough flowers for those,” he said, weakly.

“That’s okay,” Reiner said. “Take them. We only need one bouquet.” He approached, carefully, and bent down to put the pack into the child’s pocket.

He looked stunned. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“What’s your name?”

“Lukas.”

Reiner vaguely remembered that Mr. Meyer had a son with the same name. “Where’s your father?”

Lukas looked at Reiner, then at Bertholdt, nervously. “They—“ His voice pitched up a little. “They took him away.”

“Oh.”

“Your flowers,” Lukas said, practically shoving his tray forward. “You haven’t chosen one.” He was now resolutely looking at the ground.

Reiner glanced at Bertholdt, who gingerly picked one of the bouquets from the tray. Almost immediately, Lukas turned on his heels and ducked into one of the small alleyways.

Another uncomfortable silence washed over the two of them. Reiner should know better by now, that any ease in tension was temporary. Yet it still hung heavy over him.

“Can’t you do something about it?” Bertholdt asked, after a while.

Reiner shoved his hands into his pockets, now gapingly empty. He suddenly wished he had snagged at least one cigarette. “We don’t dictate what the Marleyan government does.” It wasn’t even an unfamiliar occurrence. Anything and everything could go for punishment around these parts.

“You must have some pull.”

“I don’t,” Reiner said, the words coming out a little more harshly than he intended. “Let’s just go.”

Bertholdt looked unsettled, but didn’t object. They stole one last glance at the alleyway before moving on, making the rest the journey quietly.

***

The graveyard was dilapidated. Splintered wooden grave markers littered the uneven mounds, many still freshly dug and crumbling with soil. Reiner and Bertholdt stepped gingerly past the creaking gates, barely holding together by the hinges. An iron statue of Helos and the Devil — a poor imitation of the one in the town center — stood atop a dried-out fountain.

“Over here,” Reiner said.

They went around the fountain towards a fenced-in area, slightly better kept than the rest of the place. It was a special section for Warriors and their families. Here, the dead were at least honored with concrete headstones.

Bertholdt bent down to dust the inscription on his father’s headstone, reading it intently. “They at least got his name right,” he commented. His voice was thick, as if something had lodged in his throat.

Reiner shifted on his foot. “I made sure of it.”

He suddenly felt like an intruder. It felt wrong, to loiter here while Bertholdt mourned. This was his private moment. Reiner had to at least give him that, despite orders.

“I’ll wait by the fountain near the gates,” Reiner blurted out. “If you want a moment alone, that is.”

Bertholdt only nodded slightly, eyes fixed on the grave. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Reiner walked back out to the entrance of the graveyard and sat down on the rim of the fountain. The corroded statue stood over him. It was a pitiful display, really: The tip of the spear had been broken off long ago and rust crept all over the Devil’s face. A drop of water spilled from the edge of the broken spear, splashing onto Reiner’s coat. He glanced at it tiredly, let it seep in to form a brown stain.

Looking at the graves, Reiner suddenly thought about his own mother. He thought about seeing her name. _Here lies Karina Braun. Loving mother of Warrior Reiner Braun._

 _Loving_ , Reiner thought. A strong word. When had Reiner start doubting that and start seeing his mother not just as his mother, but as a person? With ambitions and fears and lapses and — dare he say it — greed? But was it even greed, when they had so little?

He looked down on his hands. He truly was an ungrateful man. It wasn’t that he actually wanted his mother dead — no, Reiner would weep when the day came. She had been the reason why he became a Warrior in the first place, no? But a part of Reiner couldn’t deny that he would feel some relief, that there would be one less anchor to this world.

Then again, Bertholdt’s homecoming had created a far stronger one. For now, Reiner had another reason to see his tenure to the end. But did Bertholdt even need him? A mere walk through Liberio had illuminated how nothing had changed, how Reiner was still nothing but a pebble in this world, kicked around aimlessly. He had been powerless in most things, despite his fancy new title. Reiner suspected it was honorific in nature anyways, handed to him as a show of empty gratitude. A participation badge, if you will. It had cost Marley nothing and given them everything: more Warrior candidates who dedicated their lives, hoping it would earn them the hollow prestige that Reiner now held. And yet, knowing this, Reiner continued to serve faithfully. Out of fear? Survival instincts? Either way, he knew it was pathetic. At least now he could admit to it.

Another drop of water splashed onto the back of his hand, breaking his line of thought. He rubbed it away, but more soon followed, sprinkling Reiner’s tan uniform with specks of dark stains. The smell of wet earth permeated through the air. He was right about the weather after all.

He’d hate to interrupt Bertholdt, but it looked like his friend was already wrapping up, leaving the flowers on top of the grave and walking back towards the fountain. Reiner unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it up, shielding his head.

“Come on,” he called out to Bertholdt. “Let’s get shelter.”

Strangely, Bertholdt didn’t increase his pace. He almost looked dazed. By the time he reached Reiner, the rain was coming in a constant drizzle, only getting denser by the minute. Reiner reached out to tug up the hood on Bertholdt’s coat, but Bertholdt shook his head.

“Can we stay?” he asked, softly. His voice was almost masked by the patter of the rain.

“It’s raining.”

“I know.” Bertholdt sat down on the fountain. “I haven’t felt it in so long.”

Oh. Reiner merely stared.

_The air smelled so good._

_It’s nice to have company._

How had Reiner been so dense?

Bertholdt smiled up at him. “You can wait somewhere dry, Reiner. I just need a moment.”

“No—“ Reiner choked out. “No, I’ll stay here.”

He sat down next to Bertholdt. The rain continued to pour down upon them. Reiner only felt cold. He wished he could have an inkling of what it felt to Bertholdt. He always thought he would have all the answers if he had Bertholdt back, but now, all he had were more questions, more evidence of his ignorance.

When Reiner could look at Bertholdt again, Bertholdt’s head was tilted up at the sky, eyes closed shut, brow furrowed.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, a broken record.

Bertholdt’s eyes fluttered open to look at Reiner. “Stop saying that.”

“It’s all I can say,” Reiner said. “I know that…” He paused to find the courage to say the next sentence: “I know I was difficult to work with.”

Bertholdt was quiet for a moment. “You were, at times.”

The confirmation stung, but Reiner welcomed the wash of pain. “And yet you always stood by my side,” he continued. “You’re the one who deserved to come home.”

“I’m home now.”

“Yes, but—“ Reiner found himself clenching the cloth of his coat, staring down. Oh, all the good things Bertholdt had missed. The horrible things he had received instead. The words died on Reiner’s tongue, drowned by the rain.

“Reiner,” Bertholdt said. He suddenly felt heat on the back of his neck, where Bertholdt’s hand had wrapped around it. “Just feel the rain.”

The hand gently nudged Reiner to look up. The curtain of water was thick between them, but Reiner could always pinpoint Bertholdt’s eyes. Always. He found that Bertholdt was similarly looking back. Against his better judgement, emboldened by Bertholdt’s gesture, Reiner swiped away the strands of wet hair that had flopped down onto Bertholdt’s face. When Bertholdt didn’t flinch away, he moved his hand past Bertholdt’s forehead and rested it on his nape, curling around it carefully.

Bertholdt closed his eyes, and leaned forward. Reiner met him in the middle, pressing their foreheads together. Bertholdt’s felt warm, so very warm, even as the cold descended upon them. Reiner was suddenly thankful for the shower of rain around them, hiding them from the public eye.

Bertholdt’s other hand searched for Reiner’s, fingers fluttering against his; a weak attempt at capturing the other. They withdrew at the very last moment and instead settled next to Reiner’s, just a hair shy from contact. Reiner thought about grabbing them, pulling their bodies closer. But Bertholdt had stopped just short of doing so, and Reiner knew he didn’t deserve anything more. He didn’t even deserve a glance from Bertholdt.

Why was it never enough? Even now, face to face, skin to skin, Reiner could think of nothing but wanting more. He didn’t even have this just two days ago, he thought, and here Bertholdt was, in the flesh. His friend, his companion for many years.

But was that it?

His thoughts began to stretch afar, drifting from the prick of rain and wrapping itself tightly around the feeling of Bertholdt’s skin. Do friends touch each other like this, find comfort in each other like this? Reiner may have fragmented his time in Paradis into a million pieces, but he could still recall the little flickers of light— the times of seeking touch and reassurance and finding them in Bertholdt. None of the cadets in the 104th had touched like that; any contact was boisterous and brotherly and decidedly callous. But not with Bertholdt — never with Bertholdt. Even when Reiner’s mind betrayed himself, his friend was always there, fingers closing carefully around Reiner’s when the nightmares were too much — low soft whispers assuring him that they would be home one day, despite everything. Reiner didn’t always remember what home was, but he remembered the relief those promises would bring.

And then there had been more between them, but Reiner didn’t need to recall those; he had already reached his conclusion. Like rubber snapping into place, Reiner knew they couldn’t be more than friends. The mural had said so. The peeled faces had spelled it out: Man and woman. Do your duty. Continue the torch.

Even if the mural wasn’t there to remind Reiner of his place, he already knew where he stood. Far from Bertholdt. Far from whatever this was. Far from those happy painted smiles. He belonged deep in the ground, in the cold where the rainwater had washed.

But Reiner was a selfish man. Greed ran in his blood. Even knowing he deserved nothing, he still yearned, and never for the little things. He didn’t want only part of Bertholdt — he wanted to engulf him whole, envelop him, protect him. Never let him experience anymore of the ugliness that was this world; let him sit in this cocoon of rain and soil and warmth.

Thankfully, Reiner was not without shame. He wouldn’t attempt to try and take what wasn’t his — at least not anymore. For once, he would let Bertholdt be his own man. For once, he’d let Bertholdt lead. Even if Bertholdt wanted to be part of that picture in the mural, even if it meant Reiner would be kept at arm’s length. It’s only fair.

And then Bertholdt’s warmth left him, with only the ghost of his skin lingering on Reiner. They looked at each other, now thoroughly drenched, and Reiner stood up. He offered one hand to Bertholdt. There was no hesitation when Bertholdt grabbed Reiner’s hand and pulled up to his feet. They shared one last glance, hand firmly held in each other's. Back to partners. Back to comrades.

“Ready to go?” Reiner said.

Bertholdt nodded.

Practicalities were starting to filter into Reiner’s mind again. They were both soaked to the bone, and the rain wasn’t letting up. “My mother’s place is nearby. Let’s head there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First appearance of Gabi!  
> Apologies again for getting carried away with the Marley headcanons and the plot. I hope the state of Reiner's mind is clear here. This chapter was pretty hard to write, but hopefully it came out OK. There's def also still a lot of further interactions with Porco/Pieck/Magath/Gabi/Zeke we haven't seen yet, but they will come. Thank you again for reading, and feedback is always appreciated!


	5. Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheltered from the rain, Bertholdt and Reiner finally found time to get reacquainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are quite a lot of irl things happening in October, so I'm so sorry for the long wait / if it affected the quality of this chapter!
> 
> non-serious warning: very liberal use of the em-dash.
> 
> tw // some canon-compliant suicide ideation

In the eyes of most Marleyans, the humble house sitting at the top of the hilly road was a far cry from grandeur. Some would say it was even paltry. Here, though, the house and a row of its likeness stood over the rest of the town, leering.

Reiner twisted the key in the varnished door. He thanked whatever stars reminded him to bring his spare this morning.

“Ma,” he called out, as they stepped into the warmth of the foyer. It seemed to make sense, for a home to be this inviting, but he learned to never take it for granted. “It’s Reiner. Are you home?”

The quiet greeted back. Reiner called out once more, to make sure. His hope swelled and burst into relief as the house continued its silence.

This was good. This meant the house was theirs, for the time being. Reiner pulled off his boots, plopped them down onto the floor with a wet thwack. He cringed as a puddle began to form on the wooden floor; he’d have to clean up before his mother came home.

“Is she out?” Bertholdt asked, bending down to untie his boots.

“I think so.” Reiner listened closer, as if Karina’s voice would burst out of thin air any second now and prove him wrong, but all he could hear was leather thunking against the floor as Bertholdt wrangled himself out of his shoes. He sighed, and turned his attention back towards his friend.

Nothing betrayed Bertholdt’s face, only the slight wrinkling of his brow as he freed himself out of his shoes. He didn’t seem like a man in mourning, a man who had lost time. If anything, he just seemed tired. Reiner didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or relieved. This continued facade felt fragile, ballooning around the swell of unspoken tension and threatening to burst at any moment. He almost wanted to put a needle to it, end it right then and there, force Bertholdt to confront it all.

But in the end, he chose to leave it be.

“Give me your coat,” Reiner said, shedding his own. “I’ll go look for a change of clothes.”

Bertholdt complied quickly, handing Reiner the soaked coat.

Without it, Bertholdt was exposed — the old, oversized shirt clinging onto his hunched figure and reminding Reiner, once again, of how thin he was. The instinct to look away came immediately, but Reiner fought it, choosing to keep looking. He had to see it. What had been done; what he had done.

“Reiner.”

 _Now_ he looked away, slapped by the call of his name. Surely there must be a hint of judgement there; it wasn’t decent of Reiner to stare after all. He frantically told himself to explain it away, explain that he was just worried for Bertholdt’s well being, and that he was only observing — lamenting — the damage that had been done. But wouldn’t it be even more indecent of him, to call attention to it again, to further highlight what Bertholdt must’ve known already—

“You lost weight.”

Reiner’s eyes snapped back onto Bertholdt. “What?”

“You lost weight,” Bertholdt said, awkwardly gesturing. “I just— I just noticed.”

“Oh.” Reiner felt sluggish, suddenly. This seemed like a reverse of what should’ve happened. “Well, I got taller. Maybe I’m just growing upwards.” He chuckled feebly.

Bertholdt was unconvinced. “Hmm.” He stood closer to Reiner, hand measuring between their heads. “I guess the difference between us didn’t really change, so it wasn’t visible.”

Reiner stepped back, restoring their distance. “Then how did you even notice I lost—“ He stopped himself from saying the exact number. It wasn’t an inordinate amount, it had been worse, and it didn’t matter.

The question was left hanging.

“It’s just that…” Now Bertholdt was the embarrassed one. “Well. Your shirt is wet and…”

He didn’t finish it, but Reiner already understood. Right. There was nothing to hide in the aftermath of the rain.

“Let’s eat,” Reiner blurted out. “After we get changed. It’s almost lunch time, isn’t it?”

Bertholdt blinked. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“It’s—“ Bertholdt seemed to be weighing his next words carefully. “My body’s adjusted to whatever… food schedule they gave me in Paradis.” He shifted on his feet. “You know how it is.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Then we’ll readjust,” Reiner said, hurriedly, before he could slip back into staring and losing his grip. Not again, Reiner. Keep your lips moving. “I’ll get you some of my spare clothes. It probably would be too short on you, but…”

“That’s fine.”

“And there’s a bathroom down the hallway.” He pointed, assertively. “There should be towels in there. Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ll do it later. And use anything you want…” His voice trailed off.

Bertholdt smiled. “I get it, Reiner. Go get the clothes.”

“Okay. Be right back.”

Reiner almost bounded up the staircase. Keep himself running. Moving. But when he reached the closet of the guest bedroom — his bedroom — unable to step any further, he sank to his knees, buried his face into the coats that he didn’t even realize were still gripped in his fingers. The smell of earth and water was thick in his nostrils. He dropped them in haste, reminded of what had transpired outside, in the rain.

Reiner had been weak. How had he let Bertholdt console him like that, brush away his apology? Damn it. Somehow he always ended up being comforted by Bertholdt, despite their circumstances.

Not anymore. Reiner would be — had to be — the partner Bertholdt deserved, for once.

Taking in a deep breath, he cast aside the wet pile of clothes and opened his closet. A _dry outfit,_ he thought, _was what he needed right now_. He added, in retrospect: _And a towel._ Quickly, he dried himself off, changed into a fresh outfit, and went back downstairs.

Soon he found himself in the pantry, having dropped off Bertholdt’s change of clothes at the bathroom and now busying himself with the task of preparing lunch. The pantry was more of a dark nook than a room — small and cool — but it did its job preserving the wealth of food that Karina meticulously kept. He never stopped marveling at the abundance of it all. He supposed that was what he had earned for them, what he paid for.

With that in mind, he grabbed as much as he could and carried it all into the kitchen. This was a brighter room, with a big window on one side of the wall. Despite the gloomy weather, a ray of light filtered in, basking the room in a soft hue. Reiner splayed out the food onto the counter, and began working.

He cherished these moments when it was only him and the kitchen. There would be no slop and no stale bread to be dished over a tray while he was being prodded along in a line, no loud chatter or yelling. Here, Reiner could enjoy the peace of standing still and listening to the crackle of fresh bread as he cut cleanly through the loaf, producing even, thick slices. Slices as thick as he wanted. If the kitchen was the universe, he would’ve been a master of it. Wouldn’t everything be much simpler, if there was nothing else beyond these four walls?

 _But it would’ve been a lonely universe_ , Reiner absently thought. He set aside the bread — having lost count over the slices — and began unwrapping a block of cheese. The rain pattered on against the window, joining the soft thunks of his knife against the cutting board.

Soon, another rhythm of sounds joined the room: footsteps.

“What are you making?”

Reiner turned around. Bertholdt looked, as expected, completely ill-fitted in his clothes. The shirt was too baggy and too short at the same time, and Bertholdt had to wrap a belt tightly around the waist of his pants. He looked away, back towards the food. “Just some sandwiches.”

Bertholt hummed. “Want me to help?”

Reiner chuckled. “I think I can manage, Bertl. Help yourself.” He gestured towards the pile of bread. “There’s some butter in the crock.”

Bertholdt approached, hesitantly. “I’ve forgotten how well they feed us after we became Warriors.”

“Yeah.” Reiner handed Bertholdt a small knife. “Here. Please, eat.”

Bertholdt obediently took the knife, dug it into the crock. He smeared the dollop of butter onto a slice of bread and bit into it gingerly. The crust crackled against his teeth. Reiner stared, almost anxiously.

“Good?” he asked.

Bertholdt nodded, chewing. His nose involuntarily wrinkled as he swallowed.

“You still haven’t…” Reiner chose his words carefully. “Gotten your appetite back?”

“Give me a slice of that cheese and maybe I will.”

Reiner chuckled. He added three whole slices onto the bread. “I’m feeling generous today.”

“Lucky me.” Bertholdt took another bite — a bigger one, Reiner noted. It still seemed to take effort for Bertholdt to chew and swallow, but Reiner felt relief as he took another bite without prompting. Then another, and another. It was painstakingly slow, but it was something.

Suddenly Bertholdt locked eyes with Reiner. He put down the bread sheepishly. “Am I eating funny?”

Reiner blinked. “No—I—“ He looked away. “I was just making sure you’re eating.”

“You should eat yourself,” Bertholdt said, spreading butter onto a fresh slice of bread. He offered it to Reiner. “Here.”

“I’m fine, Bertl. I can wait.”

“You need to take care of yourself too, Reiner.” He paused. “I might want to eat more if you keep me company.”

“That sounds made-up,” Reiner said, though he took the bread from Bertholdt’s hand, and bit into it. “Happy?”

“Very.”

He drummed his fingers on the counter, watching as Bertholdt continued to pick around his food. Bertholdt had never been a picky eater; in fact, no one Reiner knew had been one. They didn’t have the luxury of it in these parts; anything that was edible would be good enough. For food to incite a negative reaction from Bertholdt was unprecedented, and Reiner felt equally sick to his stomach.

He tried to think of something that Bertholdt loved — something he couldn’t say no to. He found it more difficult than he thought it would be. The memories with Bertholdt had been rusted and jammed, gathering cobwebs within a corner of his mind. They were reminders that he never had the courage to fully shed, or open back up. Now he dusted them carefully, slowly, turning them over in his mind and reliving the days of their childhood.

Then, he got it. He snapped his fingers, in his excitement. “Hang on.” He gestured at Bertholdt to stay, and went back into the pantry, searching through the jugs. It should be there. It was coveted in Liberio, and Karina always had it around in case Gabi visited. He strained his eyes to read his mother’s cursive handwriting on the jugs, and finally found what he was looking for. He carried it back out into the kitchen, pouring the content into a tin mug. “Something to wash the food down.”

Bertholdt didn’t need an explanation to know what it was. The tangy scent was telltale enough. He put the mug to his lips, sipped on the lemonade. Reiner watched closely. Even without drinking it himself, he could recall the tart taste, sharp and cool until the sweetness of the honey settled on the tongue.

Bertholdt blinked. A wide smile spread across his lips. “This brings back memories.”

Reiner grinned. “You remember?”

“Of course.” Bertholdt took another swig from the mug. “This tastes so much better, though.”

“My mother makes it fresh now.” Reiner leaned against the counter. “Remember when we used to scrap together the cigarettes to buy it off of Mrs. Schmidt, just because she’s the only one who works in the orchards?”

Bertholdt chuckled, softly. “And sometimes it wouldn’t even taste good,” he said. “It’d be fermented. We’d end up feeling funny and sleepy.”

“Good thing we could only afford one jar for the both of us.”

“Yeah,” Bertholdt said, voice lowering. Something softened in his gaze as he looked down, resolutely, at the mug. “You always want me to have the last sip.”

“And you always want _me_ to.”

A small, comfortable pause. The soft rhythm of the rain pattered on against the window sill. Bertholdt’s voice wavered. “We argue over the stupidest things.”

Reiner shrugged. “Is it so bad?”

Bertholdt hummed, in agreement. Suddenly he pushed the mug towards Reiner. “Let’s share it, for old times’ sake.”

Reiner blinked. He laughed and gestured towards the jug. “You can have however much you want now, Bertl.”

“I know, Reiner. I just want to share with you.”

The mug was pushed into Reiner’s hand, warm fingers brushing momentarily against his before the cool metal took over. He took a swig. They’ve had better sweets — cakes, pies, ice cream — all rewards for being Warriors, but it was what started it all: a cool jar of lemonade, passed between scuffed hands, slipping with sweat and condensation. The sun looming over them. How long had he left this in the cobwebs, untouched? Reiner had lost track.

He told himself it was the tang of fresh lemons that stung his eyes. Reiner blinked the tears away, and gave the mug back to Bertholdt, letting him take the next sip.

If Bertholdt had noticed, he didn’t say anything. There were no words that needed to be exchanged anyways — only the drink, passing between their hands until nothing but a drop was left. Reiner handed it back to Bertholdt, who put up his hand. “You take it.”

“We’re not having this argument again, Bertl.” Reiner shook the mug at him and Bertholdt acquiesced, smiling. When the mug was back on the counter, it was empty. “Good. Now finish your bread.”

“A reward should be given after a chore and not before, you know.”

“Like I said. I’m feeling generous.”

And brave, apparently. Being here with Bertholdt, in the comfort of his mother’s home ( _his_ home, if he wanted to indulge himself), had emboldened him to shine a light onto the corner of his mind that he had shut down for these two years. In fact, here he was, making new memories and reliving their old ones. Reiner knew there would be more of these in the future; with Bertholdt’s return — time, too, had unpaused.

But at the turn of his every happiness, dread came creeping. Again he couldn’t stop the train of thought that wreaked its way through his mind. The possibilities of what had been done to Bertholdt; the enormity of the unknown bearing its weight down on him. Why hadn’t any of this prompt Bertholdt to burst yet?

Reiner decided, that he would be brave once more.

“You know,” he said, surprising himself with the hoarseness in his voice. “I thought you would be…” Starving. The word sounded hideous in his mind — violent. He waved, vaguely. “More hungry.”

Bertholdt looked on edge, but didn’t shirk away. “Galliard said the same thing,” he said. “I think it’s our Titans, Reiner. We can’t atrophy, our bodies will just regenerate. We don’t technically need food in an extreme situation.” He paused. “I think at some point I just... adapted.”

Reiner’s stomach lurched. Now: the needle. “Did they starve you?”

Bertholdt grimaced. “I—“ He looked away. “I mean, it wasn’t the most regular schedule.”

Reiner clenched down on his jaw. The apology was coming up like bile, but he held it back, letting the anger seethe instead, vibrating aimlessly. Naturally, it settled deep in his abdomen, brewing into the self-hatred he knew so well by now.

“Reiner,” Bertholdt said. His voice sounded anxious. An arm wrapped around Reiner’s shoulder, and the moment felt strangely familiar, though he couldn’t recall from when, exactly. “I’m okay. Let’s not talk about this.”

“Then when are we going to?” He turned, grabbed Bertholdt by the arms. “It wasn’t right, what they did to you.”

“Reiner.”

“You can’t think it’s okay, Bertl. You have to tell me—“

“Can’t we just—“

“At least admit that it wasn’t right—“

“ _Reiner!_ ”

Bertholdt had shaken himself free from Reiner’s grip. They stared at each other, opponents across an invisible wall.

Finally, Bertholdt spoke up, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I know it wasn’t right.”

Reiner stared. Bertholdt shook his head. “We were all just doing what we needed to do, to survive.”

Reiner gritted his teeth. “They didn’t need to torture you to survive.”

“It wasn’t—“ Bertholdt rubbed his face. “It’s not… that.”

“What else do you call imprisoning someone? Isolating them? _Starving_ them?” Reiner himself couldn’t quite believe he was saying all of this. He was happy to live in bliss, just mere minutes ago. “You, Bertholdt. You, who they knew personally, who they—“

“I tried to kill them all!” Bertholdt exclaimed, stepping further back. “And why are you bringing this all up, Reiner? You were—“ He stopped, eyes burning. “You were happy to accept that I was dead, weren’t you?”

The accusation hit him square in the chest. Reiner swallowed. “That’s not true.”

“Yes it was. You accepted it. You didn’t question Zeke or Pieck, you didn’t—“ Bertholdt clapped his hand over his mouth, hastily drowning whatever was coming next. He looked away.

Reiner didn’t need to hear it to know what Bertholdt was going to accuse him of. “I didn’t come back. I know.”

The pause was thick. Reiner looked down. “I kept telling myself I didn’t have a choice. They said they saw Eren kill you.”

“I didn’t mean it, Reiner.”

“And—” He put up his hand, stopping Bertholdt from interrupting. “If I were to be honest, I was afraid of what I might find.” Reiner struggled to keep his voice from breaking. “It’s okay, Bertl. I was a coward. Am one.”

“No,” Bertholdt exclaimed, harsh. “I should’ve been dead. _I’m_ the coward. I begged for my life.”

Reiner looked up, in shock. “Bertl—“

“It’s true, Reiner,” Bertholdt said. “I can admit it now. I’ve had a long time to reflect on it.”

“That’s not—!” Reiner snapped. “How can you say that about yourself?”

“You were just calling yourself a coward—“

“That’s different!”

“How is it different, Reiner? We were both scared and we ran away from what should’ve been.”

“It’s not even remotely the same,” Reiner said, heated. “They were going to feed you to a Titan. Who _wouldn’t_ beg when they’re about to be—“

To Reiner’s surprise, Bertholdt began to grin. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but then Bertholdt’s lips parted, breaking into a small laugh. The sound was unmistakable. Reiner stepped back, furthering the distance between them, stunned.

“That’s the thing, Reiner,” Bertholdt said, wiping at his eyes, still chuckling in between words. “It happened again.”

Reiner stared. “What did?”

“The titan ignored me.” Something akin to a wheeze left Bertholdt’s mouth, and along with it, his footing. He sank to the floor in a heap, hugging his knees. It was a reminiscent pose. “Armin’s titan, he… went after the group instead. Just like how that Titan ignored me when I first broke the wall.” He ran his hand through his damp hair, gripping at the strands. “I should've kept my mouth shut, have them execute me afterwards. Release my Titan back to Marley. It would’ve been the honorable thing to do.”

Reiner stayed put, frozen. Bertholdt continued: “But I was scared. I negotiated. The words just came out of nowhere, in fact—” He started laughing again, covering his face with his hands as he doubled over. “They wanted to feed me to a random mindless Titan, and I used _Ymir —_ Ymir, of all people! — to get them to back off of that idea—“ Bertholdt’s words were incoherent now, lost in the shakes of his laughter, growing higher in pitch. For a split second, Reiner thought he might be sobbing instead. “Ymir, Reiner — after she’s already saved us once, and we paid her back by—“

The sight snapped Reiner out of his stupor. He swept down, grabbed at Bertholdt’s wrists and forcefully wrenched them away from Bertholdt’s face. There were tears in his eyes, and Reiner couldn’t tell if they were of mirth or grief. He thumbed them away regardless. “Stop. Anyone would’ve done the same thing.”

“But what was it all for?” Bertholdt asked, voice barely a whisper. He was staring up at the ceiling now, pondering it. “Everything we did — leaving Annie— why me? Why am I here?”

Reiner dropped his hands down. “I should be the one asking that.”

“God, Reiner,” Bertholdt said, shutting his eyes. “I regretted it, you know. I should’ve died. I shouldn’t have negotiated. At some point, I actually—“ He stopped, mouth drooping to a set line, eyes flying open. There was something of a resolution settling in his expression. The sentence hung in the air.

“Actually what?” Reiner prodded, softly. He gently squeezed Bertholdt’s arm. “Tell me, Bertl. I can handle it.”

“Nothing.” The word cut through the air sharply. Bertholdt’s voice was low and grounded, in contrast to his earlier hysterics. “I just— I did what I had to do.”

Reiner swallowed. “Are you remembering something?”

Bertholdt shook his head. “I meant it when I said I don’t remember how I escaped. At least not yet. But it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

“It might help if you talk about it,” Reiner said, hesitantly. It was a line recited from his own rehabilitation sessions. He know how ineffective he was, and yet he said it anyway. As expected, Bertholdt’s response was cold.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bertholdt said. He released his grip on his knees, splaying his legs out. Reiner stepped out of the way and stumbled back onto the space next to Bertholdt. “It’s done. I’m home now.”

“This isn’t something to just sweep under the rug.“

“Reiner, it’s not the first time that I’ve been isolated,” Bertholdt panned. “I was quarantined for a while when I first inherited the Colossal. You remember.”

“That was…” Reiner shook his head. “That was different. People check in on you. I was allowed to write letters.”

“It’s the same concept,” Bertholdt said. “Really, it’s a good thing that it’s me of all people.”

Reiner gritted his teeth. “Stop saying things like that. What happened to you, it’s—“ He searched for the word. “It’s unfair.”

“The world is unfair.”

Reiner was silent. The world truly is unfair, when it had favored Reiner the entire way, rewarding him for each of his shortcomings. “I should’ve been in your place,” he finally said. “That was what I wanted to tell you, back in the graveyard. It should’ve been me.”

“And then what, Reiner?” Bertholdt asked. He turned towards Reiner, stared into his eyes. “Do you think things would be fixed, if you were dead?”

Reiner’s mouth went dry. _Yes_ , he wanted to say. “It’s not like that.”

“But that would’ve been the outcome. You would be dead.” Bertholdt clasped his fingers together. “Really, it’s a good thing that it’s me. I had the Colossal’s explosion. Your Armored wouldn’t have been able to escape. They would eventually find a way to take your Titan, and—“

“Stop saying that it’s a good thing,” Reiner snapped. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth. He looked down on his hands. “Please, Bertl.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to talk about it.”

“And I meant it, but—“ Reiner pinched his nose. This wasn’t how he expected it to go. “Don’t say that. You don’t deserve it. Any of it.“

Bertholdt shook his head. “I do, though, Reiner,” he whispered. “I did horrible things.”

“ _We_ did horrible things,” Reiner said, grimly. “If this was punishment, shouldn’t I have been right there alongside you and Annie?”

Bertholdt didn’t respond to the question. Reiner continued: “Instead, I got to go home. Play the dutiful Warrior.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “ _I’m_ the coward. It’s always been me. I ran away when Ymir’s Titan attacked Marcel. I ran away from the mission by playing the soldier. I’ve always—” Reiner took a moment, before choking it out: “I’ve always abandoned you. Annie. Marcel.”

“It’s not all your fault, Reiner.”

Reiner sighed. “You don’t need to mince words around me anymore, Bertl. You admitted it yourself — I was difficult.”

“I know,” Bertholdt said. “But not everything was your fault.“ He shifted in his seat, and suddenly his warmth was flush against Reiner. “I left all the decisions to you. I was happy to take the backseat. Have you ever thought that I might’ve been complicit?”

“Stop.” Reiner clenched his fists. “I’m still the one who started it all. I threatened you and Annie into going with the mission. We could’ve gone home instead, let me take the blame.”

“So you would be executed?” Bertholdt picked at a loose strand on his pants. “I’m starting to see a pattern here.”

Reiner felt a sudden wave of shame. “I just… I wish things could’ve been different. That’s all.”

There was a silent agreement between them. Bertholdt pulled the thread clean off his pants. “You’re wrong, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“It wasn’t you who started it all.” He flicked the thread somewhere into the room, and it floated away, escaping Reiner’s vision. “Marley did.”

Reiner turned, sharply, to look at his friend. Bertholdt’s expression was unreadable. “We were children,” Bertholdt continued. “And they turned us into weapons.”

Reiner opened his mouth, closed it again, at a loss for words. Finally, he said: “We had to do it.”

Bertholdt glanced at Reiner. “And you don't see the problem in that?”

Reiner thought of the mug of lemonade, passed between their hands. It felt ages ago. “We wanted good lives.”

“Decent lives,” Bertholdt corrected. “And look where that got us.” He looked around. “I guess at least my father got to live in a house like this. For a while.”

Reiner shook his head. “You had to do it, Bertl. At least you had to. Your father was ill.”

“And he’s dead now,” Bertholdt panned. “And your father, well—“ He gestured. There was no need to even complete the sentence.

Reiner swallowed. “It wasn’t all for naught,” he said. “You still bought your father a few more years.”

Bertholdt was quiet. He seemed to be mulling something over, struggling to say it out loud. Reiner put one hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, encouraging him. _Go on_.

Bertholdt opened his mouth. “Sometimes,” he started, voice cracking. “I wish he hadn’t even had me.” He looked down. “It would’ve been easier, I think. Or if we had just died together in the winter. If he only had the courage to end—“ The words fizzled in his throat. Bertholdt hugged his knees again, burying his face into his kneecaps. “There are nights when I think about this for so long that I fell asleep thinking I hated him.” A pause. “I know it’s wrong.”

“No,” Reiner said, quicker than he realized. “I understand.” He truly did. It surprised him, how familiar it all sounded. He added, after some thought: “He just wanted you to survive, Bertl. He loves you.”

Bertholdt let out a strangled noise. “But did he know? The price that I’d have to pay?” He peered sideways at Reiner. “It doesn’t help that he’s so quiet. We never talked about it. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Reiner didn’t answer. He only recalled the sickbed, the chess board splayed over it. Both sets of eyes fixed on the chess pieces, avoiding each other, afraid of what may lay in them. Only a soft question thrown here and there in the hours that passed. He wasn’t one to lay judgement when he, too, preferred the silence.

“All this time,” Bertholdt continued. “We thought growing up would lead us somewhere.”

Reiner moved his hand past Bertholdt’s back, resting it on his other shoulder. He squeezed again. “There are some good things.”

Bertholdt smiled. “Like the fact that we can drink fermented juice now?”

Reiner nodded.

“That,” he said. “Among others.”

They looked at each other. With no rain to veil the distance — or lack of — between them, it took all of Reiner’s courage to keep his arm around Bertholdt. The distant drizzle of the rain pattered on, worlds away.

He couldn’t help but ask: “Did you ever hate me?”

Bertholdt flinched. Reiner’s arm fell away, settled on his lap instead. He waited.

“Hate is the wrong word to use,” Bertholdt finally said.

“You can be honest with me.”

Bertholdt stood up, hastily. He leaned against the counter, stared ahead through the window. “I didn’t _hate_ my father. Or you.”

Reiner fiddled with his fingers, staring down at them. “You just said—“

“And I did say that Hoovers aren’t great with words, did I?” Bertholdt shifted next to him. “It’s pointless to be angry at each other.”

Reiner disagreed. “It can be cathartic.”

“No,” Bertholdt countered. “It’s pointless, because it’s not any of our faults.”

“We can’t keep blaming the world for what’s happened, Bertl.”

“Because you're happy to live in it?”

Reiner looked up, only to be greeted by Bertholdt’s eyes. Judgement. It was difficult to not feel it, especially from their respective positions — Reiner at Bertholdt’s feet, Bertholdt looming over him. “I didn't say that.”

A heavy pause, before Bertholdt finally averted his eyes. Reiner let out the breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “Aren’t you tired, Reiner?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. Bertholdt continued: “Everything we ever did was a gamble. A chance to buy my father a few more years. A chance for you to reunite your family. A chance for a better life. And it’s not just us.” Bertholdt stared down at the counter. Suddenly he seemed sad. Broken. “Nothing’s changed around here. No one’s coming.”

When Reiner didn’t respond, Bertholdt squatted down and grabbed him by the arms. He leaned in. “Be honest with me, Reiner.” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it echoed in Reiner’s ears, loud and urgent. “Aren’t you tired?”

There was nowhere to hide. Reiner swallowed the lump in his throat. “What are you saying, Bertl?”

“I’m saying,” Bertholdt said. “That maybe we can—“

A door creaked in the distance. It took a moment for Reiner to realize that his mind hadn’t made it up. It slammed close. The world that they were ensconced in popped along with it, reality suddenly falling into place beyond the kitchen. Bertholdt scrambled away, and Reiner stood up quickly, elbows bumping into the array of food that had laid forgotten on the counter.

“Reiner?” Karina’s voice reverberated through the house — confused, at first, then growing high-pitched, laced with suspicion. “Reiner! Are you here?”

“Yes,” Reiner said. It came out as a hoarse whisper, and he immediately called out again, louder: “I’m here, Ma. In the kitchen.” His eyes flickered towards Bertholdt, curiosity nagging on him. But there was no time to follow up. Footsteps approached, and Karina soon appeared in the doorway, brow scrunched. Her expression turned to surprise as she noticed Bertholdt.

“Reiner,” she exclaimed. “You brought a friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lemonade idea was just based off of a headcanon I have that sugar is a luxury in Liberio, much like in medieval Europe.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and I always appreciate any feedback!


	6. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karina broke a few truths to Bertholdt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dreaded Karina chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> tw// bad parent // canon-compliant violence

Karina looked at Bertholdt, then at Reiner, expectantly.

“Well?” she asked, smiling. “Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?”

Reiner blinked. “Oh.” He straightened himself. “It’s Bertholdt, Ma.”

Karina frowned. She looked at Bertholdt, up and down.

“Bertholdt?” she repeated. “Bertholdt Hoover?”

Reiner nodded. A beat passed before Bertholdt launched into action, stepping forward and holding his hand out.

“Hi, Ms. Braun.” He nodded, for effect. “Sorry for dropping by without notice.”

Karina gingerly shook Bertholdt’s hand. A polite smile spread back across her lips.

“But I thought…“ She glanced back at Reiner, seeking answers. “I thought that…”

“He just came back.”

“But how—”Karina’s hand broke from the handshake and hovered awkwardly, away from her dress. Her eyes were wide as saucers. “Did they finally rescue you?”

Reiner shook his head. “He came back on his own. Used his Titan to cross the sea. Did you feel the earthquake yesterday night?”

“A little,” Karina murmured. She scanned Bertholdt once more. “I— Wow. You’ve grown.”

Bertholdt shifted on his foot. “It’s been a long time.”

Another pause. Reiner racked his brain, unsure of how to fill the silence.

But then Karina laughed, the noise sudden and brash.

“And I thought Reiner’s changed!” she exclaimed. “My, you’re tall. Even taller than Reiner, I think?” She gestured with her hands, measuring between the two of them. “I remember when you were only up to my waist.”

Bertholdt visibly relaxed. He nodded along, smiling placidly. “Me too, Ms. Braun.”

“Time flies." Karina clicked her tongue. “Well. Make yourself at home, I suppose. Although I see that Reiner’s already helping you settle in. Are you two making sandwiches?”

Reiner nodded. “Sorry, Ma, I had to let us in. We were caught in the rain.”

“I can tell.” The smile was taut across her lips. “The foyer’s soaked.”

_Shit._

“Sorry,” he and Bertholdt said, simultaneously. Reiner cleared his throat. “I’ll mop up before I leave.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” Karina merely said. She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck, folded it neatly in her hands. “I’ll finish off lunch. You two must be exhausted.” She cocked her head. “Come on, Bertholdt, dear, I’ll show you the dining room.”

“I can help, Ms. Braun.“

“Please. You’re a guest…”

They walked past the archway that led into the dining room, where Karina sat Bertholdt down by the table.

“Wait here. We’ll be right back.” She returned to the kitchen, beckoned at Reiner. “And you, Reiner. Let’s get you a mop.”

“I know where it is, Ma—“

But Karina was already ahead, leaving the kitchen and down the hallway, to the utility closet. Reiner followed quietly, knowing what would come. It was a small house, walled and tight, and conversations didn’t easily carry through to the other rooms if one was careful enough.

As expected, Karina immediately turned to face Reiner once they were out of earshot. The smile was gone, replaced with what Reiner assumed would be irk. To his surprise, Karina only looked worried.

“You should’ve told me you’re coming, Reiner.”

“I really didn’t plan on it, Ma.“

Karina reached out and adjusted his collar. “Well. Not that I don’t enjoy surprises, but…” Her brow furrowed. “Is this okay?”

Reiner stared, blankly.

“It’s a Thursday. Don’t you have duties?”

“Oh.” Reiner shook his head. “I got someone to cover it for me.”

Karina still didn’t seem convinced. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And this is okay? Bringing him around?”

Reiner stared at her in surprise. “Ma, it’s Bertholdt. He’s my—” He faltered a little. “My friend. Best friend.”

“Oh, I know. He’s a sweet boy. I remembered how he’d follow you around.”

“I don’t think that’s—“

“But it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Karina interrupted, gravely. “Has he been in Paradis, all these years?”

Reiner nodded, silently.

“And now he’s suddenly back?”

Again, Reiner could only nod.

Karina sighed. “It’s a little suspicious, don’t you think?” She stepped closer to Reiner, voice dropping even lower. Anxiety riddled her face. “I know he was your friend, but are you letting your guard down because of it?”

Reiner wondered, briefly, if he was. He still didn’t believe the theory that Bertholdt was now a mole from Paradis. As Bertholdt had said, what would have led the Survey Corps to suddenly trust someone who's deceived them for so long?

But the alternative — Bertholdt annihilating everyone — was not an assuring one as well. Not to mention the hanging invitation that Bertholdt was almost ready to offer, one Reiner wasn’t sure he was ready to hear.

“He’s not a danger,” Reiner said, mostly to himself. “He would’ve attacked us already if he had defected.”

“Still—“

“We’re taking precautions. Galliard and I are taking turns watching over him.”

Karina wrinkled her nose. “Well, I trust _you.”_

Reiner sighed. “I know. Don’t worry.” He couldn’t resist but add: “I’ll protect you, Ma.”

The smile returned to Karina’s face, bright and genuine.

“I know you will,” she said. “You always have, haven’t you?”

Reiner supposed he had. It was the one thing he got right.

“Now,” she said, patting Reiner affectionately on the cheek. “Go mop up the floor.”

Reiner did as he was told. He worked quickly, conscious of having left Bertholdt alone. He couldn’t imagine Karina being unpleasant, but he knew that his mother was not one to respect the silence. While Mr. Hoover had avoided talking about most matters, Karina never shied away from anything. Judging by their latest conversation, neither did Bertholdt. The two together wasn’t a situation he wanted to gamble with.

Hurriedly, he rushed back into the dining room when he was done. To his relief, Bertholdt was still sitting alone by the table.

He perked up. “You’re back.”

Reiner sat across from Bertholdt, glancing at the kitchen, where Karina was still working. “What, did you think I was going to leave you?”

The quip felt wrong as soon as it left Reiner’s lips. He anxiously studied Bertholdt’s face, but observed no reaction. Instead, Bertholdt only seemed distracted. “Are we intruding, Reiner?”

“What? No.”

Reiner’s hand flitted forward, making it halfway across the table before stopping, aware of the extra set of eyes in the house. “What makes you say that?”

Bertholdt glanced at the kitchen, and shrugged.

Reiner sighed. “It’s fine. My mother likes guests. Don’t worry.”

Bertholdt didn’t respond. Reiner briefly wondered if there would be enough time — enough privacy — to pick up on their last conversation. But with his mother’s arrival, Reiner was made all aware that this was not his home. The house, along with its rightful owner, had belonged to Marley.

“That was quick, Reiner.”

Two plates of sandwiches were set down between him and Bertholdt. Karina sat at the head of the table, smiling. “Please, dig in.”

Reiner caught Bertholdt’s anxious glance. “Bertholdt’s going to have to take it slow, Ma. He’s still adjusting.”

“Oh. Of course.” Karina scanned Bertholdt once more, brow stitching in worry. “But do eat, even if it’s just a little bit, dear. You need to get better.”

Bertholdt smiled politely. “Thank you, Ms. Braun.”

“The state of you…” Karina clicked her tongue. “You look almost like your father. It’s a shame he couldn’t be here to see you today, bless his soul.”

Bertholdt opened his mouth, closed it again. He settled for a nod.

“Don’t worry.” Karina pressed one hand on Bertholdt’s arm. “We took turns visiting him. He was surrounded by loved ones.” She nodded. “Reiner’s especially dedicated. He’d come most weekends. At some point your father even mistook Reiner for you…” Karina sighed. “He really wasn’t all there anymore, towards the end.”

Reiner shot his mother a pointed look. Karina continued on, oblivious. “It’s a shame. He was such a good man. That’s what illness does to someone, I suppose.”

Bertholdt’s face was blank. “I see.”

“Oh, but he was always so proud of you before all that. He always goes on about how you dedicated your all to Marley.” She clasped her hands together. “I’m sure he’s even prouder now, up there.”

“Ma,” Reiner warned.

“What?”

“I don’t think we should be bringing up—“

“It’s okay,” Bertholdt said. “I appreciate the truth.”

The insinuation wasn’t lost on Reiner. Karina smiled, looked between the two of them, before settling on Bertholdt.

“Oh, but I understand that it’s all still fresh, dear. I have some of his things in the attic, if you want to go through them. It’s not much — we had to give away the rest, but we kept some of his personal belongings.”

“That’d be nice, Ms. Braun.”

“Of course! Anything to help. It must be difficult, to be away all these years.” She was quiet for a moment. “It must be hell, actually.”

Bertholdt picked up his sandwich, took a small bite. “Something like that.”

“I can’t even imagine what those devils did to you. Thank goodness they let you go.”

Bertholdt peered up, taken aback. His voice was quiet when he spoke up. “They didn’t let me go.”

Karina looked genuinely surprised. She turned towards Reiner hastily, demanding answers.

Reiner cleared his throat. “He escaped.”

“Escaped!” Karina exclaimed, in a breath. Curiosity flooded her eyes. “How?”

“I—“ Now Bertholdt looked towards Reiner, nervously. “I don’t really remember.”

“How could you not remember something like that?”

Reiner put one hand on Karina’s arm, assuringly. “It happens, Ma. I lost my memories too, remember?”

“I suppose,” Karina muttered. “And no one else came back with you…?”

Bertholdt shrank in on himself, nodded. Reiner’s grip tightened, wary of what accusations would spill out of Karina’s mouth. He was starting to think that this was a truly bad idea, to bring Bertholdt around.

To his surprise, she only broke out into a smile.

“Well,” she laughed. “Maybe they really did let you go, then.”

Bertholdt was quiet for a moment.

“I really don’t think so, Ms. Braun.”

“Well, there’s no other explanation, is there? Reiner and the others barely escaped two years ago.”

“I would’ve known, if—“

“But how would you have known?” Karina panned. “You didn’t remember, dear.”

She was sitting upright now, painfully straight; her smile — rigid, unflinching.

Reiner coughed. “There’s no reason for them to release Bertholdt, Ma.”

Karina waved dismissively. “Oh, who knows. Maybe the devil has a heart after all.” She suddenly looked grim. “Maybe they finally grew one, after everything they did. When I saw the state that Reiner was in…” She shook her head, swallowed back a choke. “Brutes. I’m glad they were merciful on you.”

“Ma.“ Reiner glanced at Bertholdt, anxiously. “Let’s not talk about this.”

Karina sighed.

“Right. I’m just an old lady. What would I know?” She nodded at Bertholdt. “You will get through it, though, dear. Reiner’s had his fair share of… troubles as well, coming back. I barely recognized him at first, but look at him now.”

She leaned in, pressed one hand on Bertholdt’s wrist.

“You can do it too. Take it one day at a time.” The smile on her lips turned sympathetic. “This is the final test now, of being a true Warrior.”

Bertholdt met Karina’s eyes. “Thank you, Ms. Braun.”

“Of course.” She released him. “It’s all temporary. Before you know it, you’ll be up and running again. Who knows, maybe you’ll be the new Vice Captain when Reiner eventually makes Captain.”

Reiner coughed. “Ma…”

“What? Who else would make Captain, other than you?” She leaned in towards Bertholdt, gesturing mischievously. “Modest, that boy.”

Bertholdt only gave her a polite smile.

Reiner could feel heat flushing to his face. “My title’s just a formality.”

“Hush. Give yourself some credit.” Karina turned to Bertholdt again. “All the candidates look up to him. Have you met them?”

“I don’t think I have.”

“They’re lovely kids. Reiner’s cousin is actually top of the class.” She beamed. “She’s the first choice to inherit the Armored.”

Bertholdt looked surprised. “Oh?”

“Yes, her name’s Gabi. She was just a babe when you two left for Paradis. I’m sure you two will meet again soon.” Karina hummed. “Can you imagine that, two Brauns inheriting the Armored? We’re making history.”

Bertholdt only nodded, vacantly.

“It’s like the old stories I used to read Reiner. Ancient Eldian families, inheriting Titans, generation after generation.”

“They’re just stories, Ma.” The heat lingered in Reiner’s face. “They may not even be true.”

Karina clicked her tongue. “And yet there’s still one remaining in Marley.”

“The Ty…“ Bertholdt’s brow scrunched, struggling to recall.

“Tyburs,” Karina said. “There you go. You remember some things, even after being away for so long. I told you, it’ll all come back.”

“The Tyburs are an exception,” Reiner cut in. His appetite had disappeared completely. “They’ve always been in a position of power. The Warhammer never even entered the war.”

“Because they’ve helped us win the _first_ war, against the Devil.” Karina sighed. “Things are earned. That’s what I always say, and yet Reiner here still doesn’t understand.”

“It’s not that I don’t understand.”

Reiner couldn’t stop himself. Normally he would’ve kept quiet, let his mother prattle on about her dreams, but now, in front of Bertholdt, the heat in his face was becoming hard to ignore. It wasn’t of embarrassment, he realized; it was shame. “I just don’t think it’s that simple.”

Karina scowled. “Of course it’s not simple. Hard work never is.” She shook her head. “You won’t get anywhere with that kind of attitude, Reiner. Where is that boy, who was so determined? So dedicated?”

 _Dead_. “I’m just being realistic, Ma.” He picked up his sandwich, put it back down again. “Even if Gabi — and that’s a big if — gets the Armored, there’s little chance it would stay within our family after her.”

“Well, we could’ve increased that chance. If only you would consider the Kimmiches’ offer—“

“Ma!”

She threw Reiner a glare. “What is that tone, Reiner?”

“Just— not in front of Bertholdt, please—“

Bertholdt looked at them, uncomfortably. “I can leave, if you want.”

“No,” Karina and Reiner said, simultaneously. She cleared her throat. “You’re fine. I’m not sure why Reiner’s so embarrassed anyways.”

She glanced at Reiner and shrugged.

“I’ve been trying to get him to meet this nice girl — Maria Kimmich. Her parents had agreed to a marriage.”

Bertholdt’s eyes widened. Reiner groaned.

Karina frowned. “You boys. It’s a natural thing, no? And to think that your child could’ve been the third Armored.”

“ _Ma._ Please.”

“If this is about the name, Reiner, you can’t expect her to change it.” Karina tapped her fingers on the table, impatiently. “You can always come up with nicknames if it bothers you so much. Or is there something else about her? Be more specific, and I’m sure I can find you another—“

“It’s not about that!” Reiner couldn’t bring himself to look at Bertholdt’s reaction. “You know that in four years, I’m—“

“Your _tenure_ will end.”

Her voice, loud, cutting, sliced through Reiner’s protests.

“But your legacy can live on,” she continued. “Our legacy.”

Reiner swallowed. He counted to three, a long breath in between. But at the end of the beat, every word had dried in his throat, replaced by weights that rolled into his chest, suffocating, lulling him to a waking sleep. Karina’s words droned on in the fog.

It was Bertholdt’s voice that pulled him back to the dining room.

“Reiner.” Something nudged at him, softly. Bertholdt’s fingers, on top of his. Waking him. “Are you okay?”

His vision focused back. He blinked. His mother was sitting back on her chair, impassive.

“Yes.” He curled his fingers back, breaking the contact. Bertholdt withdrew. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m fine. Did I miss something?”

Karina smiled. “Reiner’s always spacing out. Does he do it often too, when you were on your mission?”

Bertholdt didn’t answer.

She shrugged and turned back to Reiner. “We were talking about the Kimmiches, dear.”

“Oh. Right.” He met his mother’s eyes, more easily now. “I’ll think about it, Ma.”

“You always say you will think about it, and—“

“I really will this time.”

“Please do. They don’t have infinite patience, and Maria is a nice girl.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“Then I hope to hear a ‘yes’ soon, Reiner. I’m not getting any younger. You aren’t either.”

“I know.”

“Ms. Braun—“ Bertholdt was the one who spoke up this time. “Can I look through my father’s belongings?”

Karina blinked. “Now? You barely touched your food, dear.”

“I know, I’m sorry — but I think we need to leave soon.” He shot Reiner a glance. “The commander said he wants to talk to me in the afternoon, and…”

Reiner stared at him, blankly. A kick in his shin jolted him awake. He hastily reached for his pocket watch, gave it a bleary read. “Right. We should get going.”

“So soon!” Karina sighed. “Do you want me to wrap the food? You barely touched it.”

Reiner shook his head. “We’re good—”

“I’ll wrap it up. It’s just going to waste otherwise, and I taught you better than that.” She picked up the plates. “Show him to the attic, Reiner.”

Reiner muttered a thank you. They stood up, chairs scraping against the floor, eyes averted from each other’s as they climbed up the narrow staircase. Reiner pulled down the ladder that led to the attic, dust springing out and coating them both. Bertholdt coughed.

“Sorry,” Reiner muttered. When was the last time he or his mother came up here? He felt the unfairness of it all — bits of the Hoovers, thrown in shreds and abandoned in various places.

They clambered into the dark space. There was only a sliver of light that entered through a small frosted window. Reiner groped in the dark, pulled on the chain to the single bulb. It flared on dimly, casting unflattering shadows on the bulks of shapes littering the space. The wood beneath them groaned.

“Be careful!” He heard his mother yell, faintly.

Reiner looked around. “It should be here.”

He pulled off one of the tarps, revealing a trunk. Bertholdt coughed once more. Reiner threw him an apologetic glance before opening the trunk. The contents were just as he had left them: untouched.

Bertholdt knelt down alongside him and touched the chess board that laid on top. He took it out, swept his hand over it, turning it over. Then, mechanically, he settled it down onto the floor, moving on to the next item in the trunk.

Reiner sat, observing. “Thank you.”

Bertholdt didn’t peel his eyes off of the trunk. ”For what?”

“Saving me — us — from my mother.”

“You looked like you needed it.”

Reiner sighed. He touched the chess board. “We can bring this back to the barracks, if you want. The rest can stay here until we get a better way to move them.” He paused. “Maybe we can even move them back into your father’s house. It’s empty anyways.”

“Sure.”

“It’s rightfully your house now. You’ll be able to stay there when we’re not training or on mission.“

“Great.”

“And I can visit, if I need a break from my mother.”

“Right.”

Bertholdt still didn’t look at him.

Reiner swallowed. Minutes passed wordlessly as he watched Bertholdt systematically unpack the trunk — scanning the items briefly, putting them down on the floor. The rain drummed against the ceiling above them, mingling with Karina’s soft murmurs downstairs. She must be on the phone already; his mother truly wasn’t one to appreciate the silence. Reiner shut his eyes.

He opened them when the swell of unease in his chest became unbearable. “Are you angry at me?”

The answer came easily, smoothly.

“No.”

“It seems like you are.”

“What makes you think that way?”

“We were friends for—“ Reiner stopped himself. “Look. I know you, Bertl. You don’t say it when something’s wrong, but I know. Just be honest.“

“Alright.”

Bertholdt carefully placed back the item he was holding into the trunk, and turned to face Reiner.

“Alright, Reiner. Let’s be honest.”

The swell returned to Reiner’s chest. He knew what was coming, and yet he sat there, petrified, fixated on the look in Bertholdt’s eyes. What lurked there brought anticipation, fear, and something else he couldn’t quite place. Relief?

“How was my father, when I was away?” Bertholdt asked. “And be honest.”

Reiner swallowed. He could only quote his mother. “He’s not all there.”

“And what does that mean?”

Reiner ran one hand through his face. “He was just really sick, Bertl. He wasn’t really… coherent.”

“Did you actually play chess with him?”

“Of course.“ Reiner sighed. “We did play chess, in the beginning. When he was better. Then he got worse, and…”

“He thought you were me?”

“He was mixing everyone up.”

“And he forgot that I wasn’t here?”

Reiner could only nod.

“What were his last words?”

“He wasn’t being coherent at all, Bertl.”

“Reiner.” Bertholdt scooted closer to him, his face grave. “I need to know. I deserve to. Don’t you think?” He pressed on: “Wouldn’t you have wanted the same, if it were your mother? If it were me? If I had actually been dead, and someone knew—“

“It’s just one word,” Reiner interrupted. He shook his head. “He just asked ‘why’.”

“‘Why’?”

“Yes.”

“Why what?”

“I don’t know, Bertl. He didn’t say anything else.”

Reiner could offer a guess, but none of his own interpretations would’ve mattered. The true thought had been lost, buried in the ground along with what remained of Mr. Hoover. Or perhaps, there was no thought at all in the first place; just a feeling, surfacing in its raw form as Mr. Hoover faded away. “He just kept repeating it.”

Bertholdt was quiet. It was an anti-climactic word, Reiner knew, one that picked and gnawed at your brain for hours — days — spinning up questions and possibilities. Reiner himself had turned the word over many times, and he knew that Bertholdt would be doing the same — already doing the same, as he sat across from him.

When Bertholdt spoke up again, his voice was weak, soft. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this in the first place, Reiner?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But he’s my father. I deserve to know.”

“I just thought that—“ Reiner looked down. “There was nothing that could’ve been done, even if you knew.” He paused. “I know how that felt.”

“So, _you’d_ rather not know.”

His eyes snapped back up, meeting Bertholdt’s. He couldn’t answer.

“Is that why you were…” Bertholdt paused, pivoted his question. “Did you even press Zeke and Pieck for what they saw, at Shiganshina?”

A chill ran down Reiner’s body. “What are you saying, Bertl?”

“Are you sure that they are telling you the truth? About not being able to save me? Seeing Eren kill me?”

“I had no reason to—“ Reiner stopped. “Do you remember something?”

“Of course not. How many times do I have to say this?” Bertholdt suddenly seemed irritated. “I have to depend on what people tell me. Secondhand accounts. Probably all lies, at this rate.”

“Did the Survey Corps…” Reiner swallowed the lump in his throat. “What did they say to you?”

“A lot of things.”

“Tell me.”

“I—“ Bertholdt chewed on his lip. “Not now.”

“Maybe I can help set some things straight.”

“Reiner, you also lost your memories.”

They reached a frustrating dead end. Bertholdt shook his head.

“I’m not even sure I’m remembering things right, at this point.” He ran one hand through his hair. “I can’t even remember how I escaped. Maybe your mother has a point.”

“Don’t—“ Reiner sighed. “Don’t listen to her. Please.”

“But it’s true. I don’t have proof for anything.” Bertholdt slumped back against the trunk. “I just… I _know_ for a fact that they wouldn’t have released me.”

“I believe you.”

“Would anyone else?”

“They’re sending survey ships. We’ll find out.” He paused. “Don’t let my mother get to you. I’m not sure why she was so hung up on it anyways.”

Bertholdt let out a tired chuckle. “You’re not sure?”

Reiner stared, baffled.

“‘Reiner Braun, sole survivor of the Paradis mission’.” Bertholdt’s tone was almost song-like. “It doesn’t have quite the ring anymore if someone else returns alive on their own, does it?”

“Bertl…“

“It’s alright, I get it.” Bertholdt shrugged. “She doesn’t want me to steal your glory.”

Reiner looked at him, stunned. “There was never any glory.”

“You’re Vice Captain.”

“It’s a _formality_ ,” Reiner hissed. He was sick of it. “It’s for show. Marley wants to reward their puppets so they can get more of them. So that they can—“ He stopped himself. What was he doing? This was no longer a safe place to discuss this.

“It’s still a reward,” Bertholdt said, quietly. “For your service.”

Reiner wanted to laugh at that. Instead, he simply reached out and squeezed Bertholdt’s shoulder.

“I’d rather have other things.”

There was no need to explain what. “I know.”

“I suppose we don’t get to choose.”

Bertholdt nodded. “We just play the hand we get.” He looked at Reiner. “And what have you done with yours so far, Reiner?”

Reiner blinked, confused.

“Your cousin. Gabi.” Bertholdt’s voice was laced with accusation. “You let her join the program?”

“It wasn’t my—“ For once, he felt accosted. “I didn’t _let_ her. She was already testing for the Warrior unit when I came back. I tried to discourage her.”

“Did you?”

“Look.”

Reiner stood up suddenly, the wood groaning in protest. He felt the heat in his face morphing into something different: irritation, anger.

“You’ve been away for too long, Bertl. You forget our place.” He cocked his head towards the ladder, leading back down to the house. “One word of this gets out, and even my mother will send us to the gallows.”

Bertholdt didn’t respond.

“Besides,” Reiner continued, the words coming up like bile. “Weren’t you also volunteering to join the war, just a day ago? I’m not the only dutiful soldier around here.”

Again, Bertholdt didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed at the floor.

Guilt began to settle in Reiner’s chest, bringing him down to kneel at Bertholdt’s level.

“Listen, I get it. You want to protect us. Our home. I’m trying to do the same thing…” His voice lowered. “But we can’t do things callously here, Bertl. I’m trying to keep you and Gabi safe.” He paused. “I may keep my cards close to my chest, but believe me, I’m thinking of ways to avoid giving her my Titan. I still have time. Which is why—“

He wrapped his hand around Bertholdt’s nape, nudging him to look up.

“Which is why,” he repeated, gravely. “I need you to not do anything rash. I know what you were going to ask me to do, in the kitchen. But you have to remember that things are different here.”

He paused, emphasizing his next sentence.

“Don’t repeat what you said to anyone else but me, and only when we’re in private. Okay?”

Slowly, Bertholdt focused back on Reiner.

“Okay,” he said. “I trust you.”

Reiner didn’t even realize how Bertholdt’s hand had made its way to his sleeve, clutching tightly.

“Can you promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“We’ll be honest to each other from now on,” Bertholdt said. “No matter how much it’ll hurt.”

Reiner nodded. “Promise.”

He gave it some thought.

“Does this mean that you’ll tell me one day? About what happened to you in Paradis?” He quickly put up one hand. “If you’re ever ready, of course.”

Bertholdt took a second to think. He nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I will, Reiner.”

Their gaze lingered.

It wouldn’t be the first time they made promises to each other, found weight behind them in each other’s eyes. But those promises had been broken. What used to bring Reiner a sense of hope now filled him with a sinking, spiraling feeling. Undeserving.

Through it all, Reiner found the resolution to be better, to earn it this time.

Bertholdt squeezed Reiner’s arm. “Can I ask you one more question?”

“Of course.”

Bertholdt swallowed. “What about the marriage?”

“What?”

“The… Kimmich girl.” He looked embarrassed. “Your mother was fond of her.”

Reiner groaned. “Forget about it.”

“You said you’d think about it.”

“I was lying.”

Bertholdt raised his eyebrow. Reiner sighed.

“Yes, I know it’s wrong. But my mother, she’s—“ Delusional. “A dreamer. She won’t take no for an answer. She’ll give up, eventually.”

“Or you’ll die first.”

Reiner couldn’t remember the last time they spoke so candidly of their tenure.

“Knowing her, I definitely will.”

They flashed uneasy smiles at each other.

“But would you have considered it?” Bertholdt pressed on. “If we weren’t Titans?”

Reiner shook his head. “Of course not. I won’t marry someone I don’t know.”

“But you’ll have time to get to know her.”

“It’s still a no.”

“Why?”

Reiner stared at Bertholdt. He swallowed. “You know why.”

A pause.

“Tell me.”

“Bertl, you _know_ why.”

Again he was back in the cobwebs, reaching through the dark and pulling blindly at threads, unraveling the tangle of memories that had been stowed away. It seemed that with each fragment that unfurled, another came along almost immediately, until the thread had become an ocean of fabric, stitched from the patches that were Bertholdt’s warmth, hands, lips — enveloping him at once, washing him with feelings he didn’t know still existed within him.

And then, he let go.

Instantly something else erupted within him: embarrassment — so strong, he couldn’t help but panic and grab at the first opportunity to deflect the question back. “Would _you_ have done it?”

Bertholdt looked unswayed.

“Of course not,” he said. “ _You_ know why.”

Reiner stared. The fingertips that were still on Bertholdt’s nape flared with a burning feeling. It trickled down, settling low on his abdomen. Reiner couldn’t find the will to let go.

Bertholdt’s other hand reached up and curved around the back of Reiner’s neck. Those olive green eyes seemed to loom larger, closer. This time, the heat on Reiner’s face was not entirely his own.

It happened in a blur.

Suddenly Reiner found himself at least three steps away from Bertholdt — his breath quickening, as if he had just spent his lungs running. He looked up to see those green eyes safely at a distance, blinking in confusion. Bertholdt’s hand hovered in the air.

“We should—“ Reiner gasped out. “We should go. Soon. Now.”

He staggered up, dusted his clothes off. “Let’s— Let’s take the chess board. Yeah. We’ll come back for the rest in the weekend. Maybe grab Galliard and Pieck to help out.”

Reiner didn’t wait for Bertholdt to respond. He grabbed the board from the floor and hastily made his way down the ladder.

Too hastily.

His foot slipped, and he slid through the rest of the rungs, landing loudly on the second floor.

“Reiner!” His mother yelped, from downstairs.

He groaned. “I’m fine, Ma.” He heard footsteps, coming towards him. “Don’t come up!”

Karina appeared at the staircase anyways.

“Reiner, I told you to be careful!” She helped him up. “That ladder is old, how many times do I have to remind you?”

“It’s not the ladder’s fault — I wasn’t being careful—“ He wanted to escape, before Bertholdt followed down. “Ma, we need to go now. Can we leave most of the wet clothes here?”

“Oh, of course—“

“I just need our armbands,” he said, briskly walking down the stairs. Karina yelled at him to slow down, but he ignored it. “Just the armbands, and then I think we’re good…”

“Take some umbrellas,” Karina nagged, following closely behind him. “Or you’ll get a cold!”

“We can’t get colds, Ma—”

“Well, you’ll _feel_ cold!”

When Reiner had finally gathered everything, he came back to the foyer to find Bertholdt already standing there. He gave one armband to Bertholdt, decidedly avoiding his eyes.

Karina opened the front door.

“It’s a shame you have to go so soon,” she sighed. “Walk safely, you two.”

“Thank you for the hospitality, Ms. Braun.” Bertholdt offered out a hand. “It was really nice seeing you again.”

“Of course, Bertholdt dear…” Karina went in for a hug. They bumped shoulders awkwardly; Bertholdt hadn’t anticipated it. “Come again anytime. I want to see you get better.”

Now it was Reiner’s turn to give his mother a hug. “Bye, Ma. I’ll see you again this weekend.”

They opened their umbrellas and stepped outside, into the rain. Reiner gave one last wave to Karina. He almost wished he didn’t have to leave his mother’s company, if only to avoid being with Bertholdt alone after what had happened in the attic.

They began to trudge down the road, silent.

Suddenly lightning struck through the sky, flashing brightly. He looked up, baffled.

That was strange. The rain so far had been tame, almost soft. Was the weather taking a turn for the worse?

“Reiner.”

He felt Bertholdt’s hand grab at him. The other pointed forward, shaking. “Look.”

From Karina’s house, they could see down towards the rest of Liberio. Streaks of white floated up from a spot, not too far away from the hill where they stood. Reiner’s ears picked up something else through the rain — something familiar, high-pitched, frantic—

People, screaming.

A creature sat up, from the silhouette of the buildings. He could see bricks exploding where the creature — the _Titan_ — smashed through it with a careless arm. Was it Galliard? Pieck? Zeke? No. It couldn’t be any of them, because—

Because none of their Titans had short blonde hair.

As if attuned to Reiner’s thoughts, the Titan turned to face them. Even from this distance, he could see the female figure, uncannily human. The blonde hair that fell over its face swished away as it opened its mouth and _roared,_ sending tremors through the town, almost knocking Reiner off his balance. Behind him, Karina screamed.

“Get back in, Ma!”

“Reiner— oh God—“

“Reiner!”

At the urgency of Bertholdt’s voice, Reiner turned around in time to see the Titan swinging debris, throwing it haphazardly into the air. Just in time, to see it swing backwards, hurling a wagon towards them at breakneck speed—

His instincts took over. His only hope was that Bertholdt could respond to it, like old times. “Duck!”

When Bertholdt reacted, propelling himself back towards Karina, Reiner bit on his hand.

The wagon landed against the back of his Titan form, exploding into splinters, bouncing harmlessly off his Armor. Reiner looked down at his hands. As expected, they had spawned into multiple copies and formed a tight cage around Bertholdt and Karina.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Bertholdt peeked out through the gaps. His face was ashen and glistening with sweat, but he looked otherwise unharmed.

“This is new,” he commented, shakily.

Reiner only could rumble his assent.

Bertholdt ducked down out of sight before appearing back up again.

“Your mother’s unconscious, but she’s breathing. I’ll watch over her.” He nodded. “Go. Please.”

But there was a problem. The cocoon of hands had spawned off of Reiner’s Titan; he couldn’t move without bringing Bertholdt and Karina along, or leaving them without protection. Behind him, the uproar continued.

Impatiently, Reiner knelt on one knee and positioned his right foot over his left wrist. He applied as much weight as he could, pinning his wrist down. Then, he yanked.

Bertholdt’s eyes widened. “Reiner!”

The hiss of steam drowned Bertholdt’s voice. It took all of Reiner’s might, but he managed to pull his left arm apart at the wrist, fibers of muscles snapping like wires. Then he switched — his left foot over his right wrist — and tore himself completely free.

“Reiner, you need your hands! You can't regenerate that quickly— let me help—“

Bertholdt was struggling to pry himself out. Reiner nudged him back with one stump, rattling the cage. _Stay._

Then he turned around and sprinted, skidding down the hillside, landing smoothly on his soles. The Titan turned to look at him.

A few things occurred to him, in the few seconds he took to close the distance and hurl a punch to the Titan’s jaw.

One: its face — more squared than the Female Titan he was used to.

Two: the way it simply sat there, letting Reiner throw a straight hook to its face without so much as a fight back.

Three: how one punch with his stump was all it took, knocking the Titan onto its back, a strangled roar in its wake.

All these things occurred almost simultaneously to Reiner, and he realized, with a chill, that the Titan wasn't—

No.

No, he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

He circled the fallen Titan. It laid still, dissipating steam. The chill ran down his body again.

He needed to check.

Carefully, as best as he could, he turned the Titan over and began biting on its nape. It was more of a delicate job than the Colossal, given the size difference, and Reiner was careful to only peel away as little as he could at a time. It went on for ages, and the gnawing fear in his chest grew a little more each time. It shouldn’t be this difficult, if the shifter he was looking for was…

And then, he finally saw it. He almost missed it at first — the figure was so tiny, their skin tinged with pink, blending with the flesh. Too tiny to pick out with his Armor’s hand, and definitely too tiny for who he was looking for.

Reiner swallowed the lump in his throat. He clambered out of his Titan form and leaped onto the Female’s. Slowly, he knelt in front of the figure and extracted it out.

A baby. Fast asleep — unconscious — steam billowing from its body.

From all around him, he heard wailing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'll see myself out.
> 
> In all seriousness:  
> 1) I'm really sorry about Annie. In the context of this fic, I think it won't make sense if she makes it back too. I hope you find comfort in the fact that she is still alive in canon. Rest assured, she won't be swept under the rug.  
> 2) Yes, if you follow my Twitter, you'll know that I popped off with my Karina headcanons. Hope Auntie!Karina comes across here!  
> 3) If you're disoriented that only one day has elapsed, me too. The pacing will pick up. I just think there are a lot of things to go over in the beginning.  
> 4) ...I may or may not have stepped on my own wrists to make sure that last scene is possible.


	7. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiner handled the repercussions of Annie's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait. Anyhoo, here's a new chapter. Also have I mentioned enough times that there will be little plot in this fic?
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW: Suicide ideation, mentions of possible suicide

_Paradis, Year 850_

Bertholdt woke up with a start.

At first he didn’t even recognize where he was, or why he felt so, so cold. They should be in the barracks right now, in their bunks, tucked in and—

Realization struck him along with a cold gust of wind. His teeth chattered.

Right. They were on Wall Maria. They had been outed. They had barely escaped with their lives. Reiner had split again and this time, the consequences were irreparable.

Bertholdt closed his eyes. He took a deep breath of the cold air. It flowed into his lungs and froze whatever was rising in his chest, nullifying it, sinking it back down into himself. When he opened his eyes, he focused on finding his two companions.

Ymir was curled up not a foot away from him. Her hands clutched onto a piece of raggedy cloth that acted as a makeshift blanket. The wind had blown the bottom part of the cloth away, exposing her bare feet to the cold air. And yet she slept on, deep in exhaustion.

Bertholdt reached out to tuck the blanket under her. That was when he realized he had his own, falling off his body as he sat up. He grabbed onto it before the wind could blow it away.

Reiner was nowhere to be seen.

Bertholdt stood up, wrapping the rag tightly around him as he looked around. There really were only two directions that Reiner could’ve gone towards. He picked one at random, unsure of himself. Why would Reiner even leave their side?

Bertholdt started to walk. With each step he took, he found himself wavering. _Reiner would never be this far off. He should turn back. Try the other direction. Or he should wait by Ymir’s side, because right now no one was guarding her, and if something got to her, then…_

He loitered, kicking at himself. But he didn’t stay confused for long. Something carried over in the next breeze, something so subtle that he almost thought he imagined it. Unnerved, he listened in, stepping closer towards the source.

The sounds sharpened into breaths — hitching, muffled, breaking up into snivels. Crying.

Bertholdt walked, faster.

He didn’t know how far he had strayed. He wondered if Reiner had felt exactly the same, just as aimless, when he made his way to where he was currently hunched over. Bertholdt stopped. He almost couldn’t recognize his friend because of how small he looked, how terrified. His body shaking even when the air was still.

Bertholdt touched Reiner’s shoulder.

Reiner didn’t even so much as jolt. He merely unfurled, rising just enough to look at Bertholdt. In the hue of the deep night, he could see streaks under Reiner’s eyes, glinting under what little light was there.

Bertholdt sank to his knees immediately. Reminded of the rag, he took it off of himself and threw it around Reiner, whose skin felt ice-cold. The feeling shot up from Bertholdt’s fingertips to his shoulders and chest, an icy fear.

“Reiner,” he whispered. “It’s me.”

The shakes weren’t stopping. Bertholdt realized it was coming up from within Reiner, bursting free and spilling out into choked sobs. Reiner curled back into himself, face sunk into his hands. Bertholdt tried to extract him out, to grab a hold of his wrists and draw Reiner closer.

“Reiner,” he called out, surprised at how his own voice was wavering. At what was threatening to break out of himself. “Reiner, look at me. It’s okay.”

But it was of no use. Reiner was immovable. Bertholdt couldn’t believe how small he looked. His Reiner — tall and proud — shriveled into a cold, hard ball. Inextricable. So he tried the next best thing: he wrapped his arms around Reiner, pulling him close.

Reiner sprang free. His head knocked into Bertholdt’s chin, sprawling him backwards. Bertholdt blinked. Pain bloomed on his jaw. When he sat up, Reiner was sitting across him, finally upright, finally quiet, even if his breaths were still wet and raggedy. He wiped one hand across his face.

“Bertholdt,” he sniveled. “Why are you here?”

For a second Bertholdt felt another chill down his body. He wasn’t sure which Reiner he was talking to so he approached, tentatively.

“You were gone,” he replied. “I went looking for you.”

Reiner wiped furiously at his face. His voice regained a harshness. “And you left Ymir alone? What if she runs off?”

Relief and disbelief washed over him at once. “She won’t run off, Reiner.”

“She betrayed the 104th. What makes you think she won’t do it again?”

Bertholdt balked. “Because she almost died for us? Because she—“

He stopped. Bertholdt reminded himself of what had just transpired, of what Reiner was just doing. He took another deep breath of the cold air.

“Reiner,” he said, upon exhale. “She won’t run away. She’s exhausted after her transformation.”

Reiner didn’t respond at that. He didn’t seem to even want to try.

Just as quickly as he had snapped, Reiner ducked his head and took Bertholdt’s hands within his own. In the chill, Bertholdt felt unnaturally warm as Reiner’s lips brushed against his knuckles.

“I failed you,” was all he said, the words tickling into Bertholdt’s hands.

Now Bertholdt was tongue-tied. Maybe because part of him felt it was the truth.

“I shouldn’t have—“ Reiner’s sentence broke into a sob. “Shouldn’t have been here. Chosen. I should have died on that first day—“

“Stop.” The word had left Bertholdt’s mouth before he even realized it. And it came out, again and again, bubbling up as Reiner, too, continued to weep into Bertholdt’s hands. He forced his voice to become louder, to for once take control. “Reiner, stop! I don’t blame you.”

Reiner shook his head. “But you should. You should, Bertl— first Annie, and now—“

Bertholdt pulled his hands free, grabbing Reiner by the face and forcing him to look into his eyes. And it was difficult to look back, because Reiner’s eyes were bloodshot and puffy and tears were glistening visibly on his cheeks, but Bertholdt looked on anyways, because Reiner needed his eyes.

“Stop,” he said once more, sincerely. He realized that at this moment, he didn’t care for truths or apologies, only for Reiner’s misery to end. “What’s done is done.”

Reiner was still shaking. “But Ymir,” he whispered. “Your friend, Bertl. I’m so sorry.”

Bertholdt shook his head. He didn’t want to think of what had been decided, of endings and dead ends. There would be time later to grieve the only person who had seen them on this island, to allow himself what he was now allowing Reiner to do. What Reiner had rarely been allowed to do. “It’s done, Reiner,” he said. “We’ll move forward. Together.”

Reiner’s hands cupped over his. A thumb stroked over the back of Bertholdt’s hand. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

Bertholdt pressed his forehead against Reiner’s. “What does any of us deserve?” He thumbed at the tears that had soaked into Reiner’s cheeks. “You said it yourself. We only deserve each other.”

For a moment, Reiner was quiet, the fight gone from within him. His shakes began to subside, his cries quietening to small hiccups. Bertholdt felt a small peace then. Even if their world had just burnt to ashes, it would be okay. It felt okay, as long as they had each other.

“I promise I’ll fix this,” Reiner said, after some time. He began to pull away from Bertholdt. “We’ll get Annie back.”

Bertholdt’s hands dropped. Reiner had that resolution in his face, the kind that meant he was once again impenetrable. A Warrior. The peace within him grew steadily. “Okay.”

“We’ll turn Ymir in. Then we’ll reconvene with the others and come back stronger.”

Bertholdt closed his eyes. The cold spread from his chest to his head, solidifying quickly. It was a calm in the storm that was scrambling his insides. “Okay.”

“Then we’ll save Annie. We will. You’ll get to tell her about how you feel. I promise.”

“That’s not…”

Reiner was already standing up. He looked down on Bertholdt. For a split second, the Reiner he knew were in those eyes.

“This will be the last time, Bertl,” Reiner said. “The next time we see them, we finish this.”

The wind howled through them.

“Okay,” Bertholdt said. “Okay.”

Reiner began to walk away. Bertholdt stood up hurriedly, following after him as they returned to their camp. Reiner gave the blanket back to him.

“You sleep,” he said. “I’ll stand guard.”

Bertholdt took the blanket tentatively. “Reiner, we can take turns.”

“It’s fine.” Reiner was already turning away to look beyond the walls. “Go to sleep, Bertholdt.”

There was no arguing with Reiner when he had taken that tone. Bertholdt laid down and stared at the sky, the chill rendering parts of his body numb where the blanket couldn’t reach. He could only think of how much worse it was for Reiner. He wanted to reach out, to blanket Reiner with his own warmth. But in the end he decided to keep to himself.

They spent the rest of the night resolutely apart, Reiner gazing at the horizon, him at the sky. The wind swirling between them. Bertholdt fell to a waking sleep.

* * *

_Marley, Year 852_

Reiner didn’t quite remember what happened.

He must’ve clambered down from the Titan at some point. And then he had given the baby away — to someone with authority, of course, someone with the military. He had told them to call for backup and to secure the infant, as a Vice Captain would do.

And then he had found himself back at his mother’s house.

The cage of Armored hands was cracked open on one part and empty. All around him, people were running, panicking, scrambling to find out what happened, shaking his shoulder to get his attention. He ignored them all, and went inside the house.

The house was eerily quiet. His mother was lying on the chaise in the living room, still unconscious. Reiner stopped to check for a pulse, moved on when he felt her heartbeat. And then he walked into the kitchen.

Bertholdt was standing there.

“Well?”

Reiner looked up. He was no longer in the house. Dozens of eyes stared back at him through a haze of cigarette smoke, pens hovering over papers. Waiting. He blinked.

An officer cleared his throat. “You were saying you gave the infant away. Then what happened?”

His throat felt parched. How long had he been talking? Everyone else at the table had a glass of water and yet he, the one delivering a monologue, was not given one. Reiner coughed. “I went to find Hoover at my mother’s house.”

The officer nodded. “How did he react to the news?”

It was suddenly difficult to breathe. The smoke in the room was harsh and heavy, thickening in his nostrils. His mind grew hazier. Reiner fought the urge to scratch his head. “He was upset.”

Pens scratched furiously, as if that was something noteworthy. “How upset?”

Reiner grimaced. “I don’t know. How would you quantify something like that?”

A few snickers. The officer’s face flushed. “Don’t be smart,” he chided. “Any reaction of note? Anything he said at all?”

Reiner racked his brain. This would be easier, if he could do it alone. But he had to make do with being stared down by ten high-ranking officers and, as he slowly recognized among the faces, General Calvi and Magath themselves.

“He cried,” Reiner said, to buy himself time. That seemed like a sure bet. And as soon as he said it, he actually started to remember more, bits and pieces — sounds, mostly. Wailing. “He wept, actually.”

“Wept,” the officer repeated, nodding. The rest of the table followed suit. It was apparently an agreeable answer.

“He also…”

Reiner shut his eyes this time, started seeing. Fragments, but he pieced it together.

Bertholdt, standing in the kitchen. His face a strange hue in the light that emerged after the rain.

_Where’s Annie?_

Reiner was quiet.

_Reiner, where’s Annie?_

Reiner didn’t know what he said. Maybe he didn’t even say anything, simply stood there and let the silence deliver the news. All he could see next was Bertholdt on all fours, heaving.

“He threw up,” Reiner said. “I think I gave him my handkerchief.”

What an unimportant detail. Suddenly doubting himself, Reiner reached into his coat to look for the handkerchief. When he came up with nothing, he was only assured that he had been right.

With that revelation, Reiner didn’t want to open his eyes again. He wanted to sleep.

A slam on the table jolted his eyes open.

“Look at us, Braun,” the officer said impatiently. “Cut to the chase. Did Hoover say anything at all?”

Reiner sighed. He straightened himself. “He asked where Annie — er, Leonhardt — was.”

Heads turned towards each other, intrigued. “So he didn’t even know,” they mumbled. Reiner realized the general was staring directly at him. The officer turned back to Reiner. “Anything else? Anything we can use?”

Reiner’s mind went back into the kitchen.

“He was just crying,” he said. He tried not to recall the sounds and to only describe the bare bones. “If he said anything, I wouldn’t have been able to understand a word of it.”

The officer clicked his tongue. “So that’s it. He cried?”

Something bubbled up within Reiner. He wished for that glass of water more than anything now, even if it was just to wash the feeling down with something tangible.

“Yes,” he finally said, when it had passed. “That’s it.”

“So why did you knock him out?”

Wait.

“What?” Reiner said.

The officer’s pen clattered onto the table. He turned to his colleagues. “Unbelievable, this one.”

Reiner couldn’t even be offended. He tried to make sense of the question. Someone cleared their throat, shushing the room.

“Braun,” Magath said.

Reiner looked up. Magath nodded in return, a quick anchor.

“You knocked Hoover out so you could call for backup,” he said. “You said he was hysterical. Out of control. You approved of transporting him to the Paddock.”

He said this firmly, factually, like a news report, and it unfolded slowly in Reiner’s mind, even if the images didn’t seem to be his own. He appreciated the silence that followed, the fact that Magath didn’t even bother asking if Reiner remembered.

“I see,” he said. His throat felt dryer than ever. “Yes. Of course. I was just blanking.”

Magath nodded again.

“So,” he continued. “Can you tell us what made it necessary to knock him unconscious, and if he will be a danger to Marley after this?”

Reiner became hyper-aware of his own breaths. In, out, in, out, in, out. What would they do, if he decided to release a breath and never take in another one?

“I think he was just in shock,” Reiner said. “And my mother was there, so I felt the need to take drastic measures.”

“In case he shifted into a Titan,” an officer chimed in. Sweat was beading on his brow.

Reiner shook his head. “No, he would never.”

“But you found it necessary to knock him out!”

“I was just scared that…” Reiner swallowed. The words scratched painfully against his throat. “I was scared that he might be a danger to himself, mostly.”

Calvi finally stirred from his position. “Suicide, you mean?”

Reiner faltered but found his bearings quickly.

“Yes,” he said, like a rehearsed tape. “And losing the Colossal a second time would be a great tragedy.”

“Hmm,” Calvi said. His eyes stared on into Reiner, as if calling his bluff. “So he didn’t say anything specific about killing Leonhardt, in the end.”

Reiner winced and said without a thought, “No.”

Magath threw Reiner a look. “He did mention possibly having killed her in his escape. But he didn’t remember specifics.”

“And he still hasn’t regained his memories?”

“It’s been one day,” Reiner said.

Again Calvi’s eyes bore into him.

“Pretty big thing to forget though,” he said. “To kill a comrade.”

“Bertholdt would never—“ Reiner collected himself. “I don’t think we should be putting weight into what he thinks. He wasn’t thinking straight.”

Calvi stood up. “And yet the infant was born not even a week ago, which puts Leonhardt’s death at around that time.” He sauntered past the table, looking out the window. “That would be around the same time that Hoover escaped, wouldn’t you agree?”

It dawned on Reiner then, that Annie too had been alive for all these years.

It wasn’t a surprise, of course. He had suspected, ruminated over it, imagined it. He had known. But, like everything else, he eventually grew so exhausted that he shoved it down, deep into a place where reality blurred with imagination. At that very moment, the idea simply crawled out into the light and revealed itself to be the truth.

“If anything,” Magath spoke up. “It probably wasn’t deliberate.”

Calvi hummed. “He caused an explosion, not knowing Leonhardt is in the vicinity?”

“Most likely.”

“But Bert — Hoover — could never—” Reiner cut in. “How do we even know that the enemy didn’t have a hand in this?”

The looks he received were clear: they thought him an idiot.

“The enemy,” Magath said, slowly, like he needed Reiner to think this through, “has kept Leonhardt and Hoover alive for all these years for a purpose. Why would they kill one and release the other after all this time?”

When Reiner couldn’t come up with an answer, Magath drove home his conclusion.

“The only likely possibility,” he said, turning back towards the general, “is that Hoover made his resolve to escape and sacrificed Leonhardt, even if it didn’t dawn on him until now. That would explain his reaction.”

Reiner opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t have any words to express the disquiet inside him, so he withdrew into himself as the rest of the table, too, ignored him. He had apparently served his purpose.

Calvi sighed. “I suppose we have him to thank for the Female Titan returning into Marley’s hands.”

The table assented in a cloud of murmurs.

“Which brings me to another question,” Calvi said, irritation lining his voice. “How did we miss this at the birth? I thought that every newborn Eldian is to be tested.”

Magath shrugged. “It’s a flimsy test. All we really can do is prick their fingers and see if they transform.”

“Still,” Calvi said. “Check if the soldiers have been negligent. And hang them if they were.”

“Of course.”

“Are we already checking the other babies for the Founder?”

“We are. Yeager is overseeing it.”

“Good.”

“Although of course it’s not guaranteed that a baby in this region would possess the Founder, even if Eren Yeager has died along with Leonhardt…”

Calvi swatted at the air, as if that idea was too unpleasant to even reach his ears. “And is the survey ship ready to deploy?”

An officer nodded hurriedly. “It can leave as early as tomorrow morning.”

“Then launch it,” Calvi said. He returned to his seat, again staring at Reiner, “We need to get some clues as to what happened, even if the concerning party himself doesn’t fancy remembering.”

Reiner could feel the side of his mouth twitching.

Calvi looked down at his papers. “Is this the last of the interviews?” At Magath’s nod, Calvi continued. “Let’s adjourn for the day then. We’ll discuss what to do with the infant tomorrow. And Braun…” For once, Calvi’s expression softened, even when his brow crinkled in mild disapproval. “Rest up and get a fresh outfit.”

As the table bustled to leave, Reiner looked down at his clothes. They were singed all over, as if he had held himself close to a fire. Holes peppered the front of his shirt. How long had he sat in this meeting room, dressed like this? And had the incident really caused this much damage?

“Reiner.”

He looked up. Magath had dragged a chair next to him. Reiner tried as best as he could to slide tightly against the table, hiding the state of his clothes.

“Are you alright?” Magath said, to Reiner’s surprise.

“Yes,” he said, quickly. “What makes you ask that?”

“Is it not a fair question after what’s happened?”

Reiner faltered. “Of course, Commander. Pardon me.”

Magath leaned back against his chair. “You’re having trouble remembering again.”

There it is. At least Magath didn’t beat around the bush for that long.

“I was just—“ Reiner waved his hand. “In shock.”

Magath didn’t seem convinced. “Well,” he said. “See Dr. Klein if you must.”

Reiner fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. “I will,” he lied. He quickly deflected to another topic. “Commander, where’s my mother? Is she alright?”

Magath gave him a funny look. “Yes. You escorted her to the hospital, remember?”

“Oh.”

“She’s fine,” Magath emphasized. “She’s regained consciousness by the time you brought her there.”

Reiner sighed in relief. He looked around to ensure that the room was empty, or at least mostly so. “Can I see Bertholdt?”

Magath frowned. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“He needs someone to look after him. Someone familiar.”

“Reiner,” Magath’s voice was stern, “There are soldiers posted to watch over him. I’m not sure if you two are the best for each other right now. Losing Annie was personal to both of you.”

“Which is why he needs me,” Reiner said. “I’m the only one who understands.”

“You didn’t seem to handle it too well in Liberio.”

“And a couple of random soldiers won't handle it better,” Reiner pressed. He didn’t know where this fire suddenly came from, lighting up from the standstill that had washed over him during the meeting. “I have the Armor. I’m resistant to his explosion. You won’t lose another Warrior, I promise.”

Magath’s eyes flickered down, to the burns on Reiner’s shirt. If he suspected anything, he didn’t say it, instead meeting Reiner’s eyes again. “Just for tonight. And do _not_ remove his restraints.”

Reiner’s heartbeat quickened. “Thank you, Commander. Of course.”

Someone burst into the meeting room, panting. Reiner and Magath turned to look. The soldier saluted anxiously.

“Commander, Vice Captain,” he addressed. “Thank goodness I found you both. There’s a little commotion outside right now and…”

“Commotion?”

The soldier gestured with his hands. “A Mr. Leonhardt is demanding to see Warrior Hoover. He’s an honorary Marleyan, so technically he’s allowed to be here, but—“

“Leonhardt? Already?” Magath exclaimed. He looked at Reiner. “How does he know Bertholdt is back? Did you two meet him?”

“No, we only saw my mother—“ Reiner suddenly remembered the phone calls. He groaned. “Although it’s possible she could’ve spread the word around.”

“This fast?” Magath said. He almost sound marveled. Regardless, he shook his head and strode over to join the soldier. He cast one last look at Reiner. “I’ll handle this. Take the back exit. But I want you here tomorrow morning to rejoin the discussions around the infant.”

Reiner reminded himself to breathe. “Of course, Commander.”

He left for the barracks after that, taking the back route as suggested. He couldn’t even bear to think of Mr. Leonhardt’s reaction. Or the infant, or Annie. Thoughts, so many of them, running and colliding at once, cancelling into nothing.

Empty-headed, Reiner changed himself, tossing the ruined clothes into the trash can. And then, finally, a coherent thought formed: Bertholdt would need a change of outfit as well. He didn’t know if Bertholdt was even allowed one, given the restraints, but Reiner would rather be prepared. He walked over to the room down one floor that Porco now shared with Bertholdt, and knocked.

Porco answered. He looked astonished. “Why are you here?”

Before Reiner could answer, Pieck chimed in from within the room. “Come on, Pock. Let him in.”

Porco actually looked guilty. He stepped aside. Pieck nodded at Reiner from the bed. She didn’t offer him a smile, which Reiner was grateful for. “I’m sorry to hear,” she said.

“Thanks,” Reiner mumbled. What else could he say? He looked around for the bag that he had just given to Bertholdt one day ago. One very long day ago.

Porco lifted a wine bottle from the floor. “A drink?”

Reiner glanced at it warily and accepted, taking a swig. Porco scratched his head. “Annie’s a…” he coughed and faltered, when he realized there was nothing he could really say to describe her. “We’re all sorry.”

It was also a sorry condolence, but Reiner appreciated it. The hit from the alcohol softened the awkwardness. He swung the bag over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to see Bertholdt?” Pieck asked.

Reiner nodded. “I thought I might catch the train soon to the Paddock.”

“Do you want a ride instead?”

Reiner and Porco both cast her a surprised look. Reiner shook his head. “It’s late and it would take a couple of hours even on your Titan, Pieck. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, anything else we can help with?”

Her crutch stabbed on Porco’s boot before he could even say anything. Reiner blinked.

“Sure,” he said. “If you could give my mother a call and check up on her, that’ll be great. She’s at the hospital.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly uncomfortable at the way he was being coddled, Reiner shot back, “Are your families okay?”

“They’re fine,” she said. “Don’t worry about us. You should go.”

Reiner still lingered, a question stabbing at his mind. “Pieck,” he said. Tentative. “Do you think Bertholdt really did this?”

A quiet descended on the room. Porco turned away, astray in this conversation. Pieck looked at Reiner solemnly. “He was desperate, Reiner. Wouldn’t you be, in that situation?”

Reiner swallowed. He tried to reconcile it — unmoving, indecisive Bertholdt. The Bertholdt who had so wanted to rescue Annie. He couldn’t begin to imagine the desperation enough to revert everything about that Bertholdt.

“I just don’t believe it,” was all Reiner could say. “He waited for me at Shiganshina. He gave me a chance to protect myself.”

“And you were lucky that you could still hear him.”

Reiner pondered on the implication.

“You should go,” she urged. “If you want to make the train.”

He supposed he should. Nodding, Reiner turned on his heel to leave, ducking past curious glances until he reached the train station.

* * *

The Paddock was a vast expanse of wasteland further inland, where there was nothing as far as the eye could see. The moment the train left the station, Reiner was alone in the flickering orange of the station lights, the dead quiet settling in on him. With the sun gone, the night was heavy, blanketing all corners of the land.

Reiner stepped away from the station and squinted his eyes for any sign of lights. Life. It took him a while to finally spot the flickering lights in the distance: a guardhouse. He started half-jogging, half-sprinting towards it. The ground was dusty and rock hard, dirt swirling around him as he passed through. Maybe he should’ve given more forethought to this and called ahead.

But eventually he did reach past the first set of spotlights. Then the flimsy fence, wide open at the gate. He slowed down every time, in case someone wanted to accost him at his intrusion, but no one ever did, until Reiner finally found himself standing at the door of the guardhouse.It was as if he had reached another world entirely, where no one was on guard or watching him.

He knocked. There wasn’t so much of an answer. He banged at the door.

Only then did it open. A stout guard almost half his height stared back.

“Oh,” the guard said. “Vice Captain.” He gave a weak salute.

Reiner stared. “Did you just open the door without knowing who it was?”

The guard blinked. “If it was someone bad, would they even knock?”

Reiner sputtered for a second. He thought about giving a stern spiel, but the armband on the guard gave him pause. He coughed. “Anyone could walk into the compound.”

The guard shrugged. He wasn’t being cheeky, Reiner realized, just resigned. “No one ever comes out this way unless it’s the brass. Although today’s a special day.” He ushered Reiner in. “I suppose you’re coming to check in on the detainee, Vice Captain?”

“Yes,” Reiner said, although he was yet again distracted by the sight of a second guard inside, hyper-focused on stacking a house of cards.

“Who is it, Becker?” the guard asked, brow furrowed.

Becker nestled into an armchair. “It’s the Vice Captain, Fischer.”

Fischer stopped. He pushed himself away from the table carefully, slowly, eyes fixated on the unfinished house of cards. When he deemed himself a safe distance away, he stood up — alarmingly tall and skinny — and flashed a toothy smile at Reiner. “Good evening, Vice Captain. Fancy seeing you here.”

Again Reiner noted the armband. It was wrapped around a stump, the uniform sleeve hanging off loosely beyond it. He shook his head and cut to the chase. “I need to see Bertholdt.”

Fischer didn’t put up a fight. “Sure,” he said. He turned towards Becker. “Don’t you touch my cards.”

Becker merely waved him away and returned to his book.

“Follow me, Vice Captain,” Fischer said. They went out of the guardhouse, back to the wasteland. Fischer walked ahead of Reiner, confidently, following a path that must’ve been seared to the back of his mind. That, or he was leading Reiner nowhere. It was a fifty-fifty. Reiner’s confidence in the Paddock’s staff had plummeted to near zero in the last few minutes.

But eventually Fischer ducked down and squatted, pulling at a trap door. It opened to reveal a cavernous staircase. He gestured. “After you.”

Reiner walked down. The steps were almost treacherous. He wondered how they managed to carry Bertholdt down. “It won’t go for much further, don't worry,” Fischer said, reading Reiner’s mind. “There’s an elevator that takes us to the cell.”

Reiner looked back at him, astonished. “How deep does this go?”

“Pretty deep,” Fischer said. “It has to be to contain an explosive, don’t you think?”

“Is this always the place they use to quarantine the Colossals?”

Fischer nodded. “Of course. For eighty years and counting now.”

Reiner never knew. How had he never known? Bertholdt never told him anything about this.

They reached a dark landing, and Fischer pushed a lighter into Reiner’s hand. “Flick that on, will you?”

Reiner did as he was told. The lighter brightened over a panel and Fischer busied himself with the levers. A loud, metallic lurch boomed through the tiny space. When the elevator — a clanky, mean old box — reached their level, Fischer pulled at the grates that covered the entrance. They squashed in. The elevator lurched into action, descending slowly.

“I am sorry to hear about what’s happened,” Fischer said, after a moment.

Reiner sighed quietly. “Thank you.”

“I do know you, you know,” Fischer continued. “Well, sort of.”

Astonished, Reiner stared at Fischer. He tried to recall if he had ever run into this gaunt man, with his one arm and prominent eye bags and constant look of despair. He felt like he would remember if he had.

“It was a long time ago, don’t worry,” Fischer said. “We were children. I supposed knowing you was a bit of a stretch. I know _of_ you, since every child from our town eventually ran into one another during recruitment…” He laughed.

“Oh,” Reiner said. Recruitment. That was ages ago.

“It was a long shot for me anyways.” He flicked at his loose sleeve. “The odds were against me since the beginning. Then again, maybe I should be glad. I’m not sure I could take whatever it is you must’ve gone through.”

Reiner was quiet for a moment. “You still enlisted.”

Fischer shrugged. “Did I have a choice? I’m lucky they decided I was completely useless for anything but the suicide post.” He put up one hand, as if he anticipated Reiner balking at that term. “It’s what we call this place after the two incidents in its history. You should know, you’re a Warrior.”

Reiner did know. “It must be frightening.”

“Frightening?” Fischer said. “Death by explosion sounds merciful, actually. It’s the crippling loneliness that worries me sometimes.”

Reiner blinked. “Is it just you and Becker out here?”

“And two others. We take turns on the shifts.” Fischer shrugged. “This crew is alright. Becker’s not all there, but that means he doesn’t think too hard about life and existence and whatnot. I appreciate that, you know?”

Reiner only nodded, at a loss.

“Anyways,” Fischer said. The box had grated to a halt. He let them both out. “We’re here.”

There wasn’t much to the holding cell. It was, quite literally, a classic dungeon, with bars separating them from the bare room that contained a bed, a sink and a bedpan. The walls were padded with hay, stuffed tightly into burlap sacks and knotted tightly with each other to leave no gaps. The air felt stuffy and hot.

Bertholdt was facing the wall. He didn’t even budge when Fischer unlocked the door to the cell.

“I didn’t restrain his legs so he could… ” Fischer gestured, then pointed to a hole in the wall. “You can empty the bedpan over there.” He tapped a panel on the wall. “And we have temperature sensors here. If anything goes awry, the alarm will sound. I’ll trust you can take care of yourself, Vice Captain?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Alright then.” He craned his neck into the cell, and announced aloud. “Visitor!”

Bertholdt remained still. Reiner cringed. “I think he knows. You can leave us.”

“Suit yourself,” Fischer said. And thankfully he did leave, the elevator lurching up and away from them.

Reiner turned to look at Bertholdt. It had only been a couple of hours since they were together at his mother’s house and yet it felt like ages, infinities. Time with Bertholdt was precious, he realized, because even now they were still paying the cost to earn it.

“Is he gone?”

Reiner jolted.

“Bertl—“ He dropped the bag on the floor and checked on Bertholdt’s gag. It had slipped away; the leather must be worn. He didn’t know if he should curse the staff or breathe a sigh of relief that nothing happened. But what did he even fear would happen? This was still Bertholdt, despite everything. He should trust him. So he took the gag off entirely, and pushed Bertholdt up into a sitting position as he inspected the rest of the restraints. They had done a thorough job on that end, at least. Even Bertholdt’s neck and head were propped up by a contraption that didn’t allow him to so much as crane his neck.

“I’m going to take these off,” Reiner stated. It probably wasn’t what a Vice Captain should do. But he was sick of protocols and sick of titles and sick of the inhumanity, so he did it anyways.

Bertholdt sat there as Reiner worked through the restraints. He didn’t so much as stir when the leather scraped against his skin, leaving red marks that immediately faded away. If only it could be as easy for everything else.

“I’m surprised they didn’t put me here since yesterday,” Bertholdt said, quietly.

Reiner shrugged. “You weren’t a danger. This was just… a precaution.”

The last of the restraints fell away. Bertholdt straightened up and turned around to face Reiner. His expression was unreadable.

Reiner’s first instinct was to say sorry. That he understood what it felt like to lose someone he burned for, especially when those feelings were never put into words. But he bit his tongue, because it felt trite and pointless, almost self-centered. Reiner racked his brain to say something else, anything else. In the end, Bertholdt beat him to the punch.

“Reiner,” he said. “I want to be honest.”

Reiner froze. He had almost forgotten about the attic. “Honest?”

Bertholdt nodded. “About what I did.”

Oh.

“We don’t have to talk about that,” Reiner said. He grabbed Bertholdt’s hands. “The survey ships will find out what happened to Annie.”

“They don’t need to,” Bertholdt panned. “I did it.”

“But you don’t remember, Bertl.” Reiner shook his head. “I know you. You could never do this. Stop saying—”

“Reiner, I was ready to kill you too.”

Every drag of air suddenly felt laborious. Reiner exhaled, hoping his body wouldn’t take in another one. But when Bertholdt touched his face — his palm warm, so very warm, almost burning — it prompted Reiner to resume his breaths.

“Back at Shiganshina, I was ready,” Bertholdt said. “If you hadn’t protected yourself, I would’ve still carried out the mission. I had decided. I wanted to end it.”

Reiner listened. It made sense, once he had time to digest it. He had failed them many times. Bertholdt was only carrying out his duty.

And yet, this was Annie. Bertholdt loved Annie.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” Bertholdt whispered. “I’m tired of it. I want to be honest.”

Reiner shook his own thoughts away. There would be time to think later. For now he needed to be here, in the present. He squeezed Bertholdt’s hands. “Okay. Okay.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Bertholdt said. His voice began to shake. “It’s all a tangle to me. I don’t know what memories are false, which are my own…” He stared into Reiner. “They told me you all abandoned me.”

“Bertl, I wouldn’t have…” But would he have? What could Reiner even say? His memories were just as shot and in the end he had chosen to forget, chosen to move forward. He chose not to go back. Wasn’t that abandonment?

Bertholdt avoided Reiner’s eyes. “Back at the house, when you asked me if I hated you,” he said, “there were days that I did, Reiner, if I were to be honest.”

Reiner expected to feel shock, pain. He only found a quiet acceptance. His hand strayed to Bertholdt’s back, holding him closer, letting Bertholdt lean onto his shoulder.

“And Ymir,” Bertholdt choked. “I didn’t mean to, Reiner. Or maybe I did, because I was just that selfish. They wanted to feed me to a mindless Titan, and I just…” He shook his head. “I reminded them of how Ymir was one, how she ended up a traitor. I called her a traitor, Reiner. I didn't want to die, and I called her a traitor. After what she’s done for us. What she’s given up.” Bertholdt’s breaths were hitching into Reiner’s shoulder. “She was my friend. I did that to my friend. You and Annie were my friends, too, and I…”

Reiner didn’t know what to say, so he wrapped his other arm around Bertholdt and hugged him instead. Closely, tightly, for the first time in god knows how long. Maybe for the first time ever since they were children. And Bertholdt’s hands grasped back at his shirt, fisting into it, his nose digging into the crook of Reiner’s neck.

They breathed together. Reiner, exhaling his entire lungful each time, holding onto the few seconds when there was nothing within him, when everything lulled into a dizzying darkness. If the world ended right then and there, he would accept it. He would welcome it. But every time Bertholdt took in a breath against his neck, Reiner found himself doing the same, pulled by an invisible string. After a while that was all he felt: Bertholdt’s breaths and his own trotting after them; in, out, in, out, in, out, until he had lost count. For now, they would forget.

“I have your stuff,” he said, when the world had steadied. “Change of clothes, the necklace from your father. It’s all here.”

Bertholdt’s head moved; a nod, Reiner presumed.

“I’m staying here tonight,” Reiner said. “I won’t leave you.”

Bertholdt stirred. “You don’t have to, Reiner.”

“I want to.”

“After everything?”

Reiner nodded. “Of course,” he said. “If you’ll have me.”

Bertholdt’s fingers grasped tighter onto Reiner’s shirt.

“Can we…” he hesitated. “Can we do what we used to do? When we were scared?”

Reiner’s heartbeat quickened. He tried to calm it down. At this proximity, there was nothing to hide. “Anything.”

Bertholdt pulled away. He looked vulnerable now, almost afraid. It soothed Reiner to know that his friend still felt familiar at times.

“Can you hold me?” Bertholdt said. “Like we used to, Reiner. When we sleep.”

Reiner nodded again. They laid down on the bed, Bertholdt facing towards the wall and Reiner sliding his arms around him from behind, holding him close. Bertholdt’s hands clasped over his. They laid there, listening to the dead quiet of the underground.

“I don’t know what to do now, Reiner,” Bertholdt whispered. “I thought I did, but I don’t anymore.”

Reiner squeezed his eyes shut. Bertholdt shook his head. “You’ve always decided for us. How do we move on, Reiner?”

He didn’t have an answer. He never had. He thought growing up meant knowing more, understanding better, but maybe it just meant having the decency to be honest when he was equally in over his head. So Reiner lowered his head onto the back of Bertholdt’s neck, lips grazing ever-so-slightly against it — the most he would allow himself — and decided to tell the truth.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll be here with you.”

Bertholdt only squeezed Reiner’s hands in response.

He held Bertholdt close for the rest of the night, even when the air sweltered in the bunker and Bertholdt’s body burned hot against him. He held on for the lost years, the lone nights. And as Reiner fell asleep, the heat followed him to his dreams: detonating out, caving the ceiling in over them. Burying them deep in the belly of the earth. With those thoughts, he held himself closer to Bertholdt, surrendering himself to the heat, finding peace in it.

For the first time in the past two years, he slept through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Is it weird to feel attached to Fischer and Becker?   
> 2) Idk why I called the quarantine place "The Paddock". I just really like that word, lol.
> 
> Anyways, feedback is always appreciated! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chubbpengi) and [Tumblr](https://chubbystoutpenguin.tumblr.com/) for previews/updates about this fic!


End file.
